


Just To Be Quiet

by sksai



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child Abuse, M/M, Moderate depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-01 20:57:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 91,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4034338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sksai/pseuds/sksai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>an AU loosely based off the concept of the book Unspoken by Sarah Rees Brennan. or, an excuse for Ronan and Adam to have a heart-wrenching psychic bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And All The World Drops Dead

_I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;_  
_I lift my lids and all is born again._  
_(I think I made you up inside my head.)_

_—Mad Girl's Love Song by Sylvia Plath_

* * *

 

It started when he was eight. There may or may not have been flashes of it before then. But that was the first time he fully, consciously remembered it, anyway. It was the middle of the night. He'd woken up from a strange dream with a terrible headache, and then there was the crying. Soft, but close. He turned on his side, half-expecting to see his little brother, Matthew curled up beside him, as he had a habit of sneaking into his room while he was asleep. But Ronan's bed was empty apart from him. The crying continued. Jagged and breathy, like a person who was trying very hard to stop crying, but not doing a very good job of it.

And because Ronan was an eight year old little boy, and not yet devoid of childish whimsy, simply asked the disembodied voice, "Why are you crying?"

The crying abruptly stopped. A long silence passed. Ronan let out a few long breaths before saying, "Hello?"

No response. But Ronan could still  _feel_  someone there. "Where are you?" he whispered into the darkness.

His first thought, logical as anything, was that there must be a ghost in his room.

"Are you in my closet?" was, of course, the next sensible query.

Finally, finally, the voice answered, "No." Followed by a sniffle.

"Under my bed?"

Another small sniffling sound. "No."

"Where then?" Ronan was delighted by this game of Find The Ghost.

"I..." The voice, a boy's voice, said, "I'm in my bed. In my room."

A confused moment of silence.

Then, the boy's voice, "Where are  _you_?"

"I'm in  _my_  bed, in  _my_  room." Ronan answered.

"Are you a ghost?" Ronan was eager to get to the bottom of this.

"No," the boy's voice seemed amused by that. "Are you?"

"No!" Ronan had forgotten to whisper. He remembered himself a moment later. In a hushed tone, he offered up this information freely. "I'm just normal."

"Why were you crying?" Ronan still wanted to know.

"It...doesn't matter." the boy said. Ronan felt like he was lying.

"How, " the boy went on, "are you talking to me all the way from your room?"

"I don't know," Ronan, a child, wasn't all that concerned with such trivial logistics. "I just am."

"Okay," said the boy, who was also a child.

"My name's Ronan. What's yours?"

After a moment, the boy's voice replied, "Adam."

That was the beginning.

 

* * *

 

"What are you doing?" Ronan flopped on his bed after a long, annoying day at school.

"Homework," Adam replied.

"Boring," Ronan grumbled. "Talk to me."

Adam was shifting books off his lap now, sighing resignedly. Though he couldn't see what Adam was doing he could weirdly  _feel_  it. Or sense it. Whatever. At the cusp of thirteen, he still wasn't entirely bothered with how this whole thing worked. Adam had become a consistent staple in his life, something he was comfortable with, used to, could not remember a time without. His older brother, Declan, chided him about the fact that he was too old to still be playing with an "imaginary friend". He'd given up on trying to explain that wasn't what Adam was. He couldn't see Adam, it's not like he was occupying the same space he was. He didn't do baby things like insist Adam have a place at the dinner table, like Matthew sometimes did with his treasured stuffed rabbit. He knew Adam wasn't really there with him. But he didn't spend a large amount of time worrying about whether or not Adam was really  _real_. After a long conversation about it with his mother, back when he was only ten and she'd caught him talking up a storm in his room to seemingly no one in particular, she'd simply said to him "well, he certainly sounds very real to me." and kissed him on the forehead. And then quietly advised him to not mention it around his father, which he didn't quite understand why, but followed this only rule anyway.

"What are _you_ doing?" Adam asked.

Ronan kicked his feet at the air mindlessly. "Talking to you."

He heard Adam laugh inside his head. He loved the way the sound of it vibrated around in his skull.

"What  _were_  you doing, then?" Adam rephrased the question. "Before you were talking to me."

"Waiting to talk to you." Ronan said, with blunt boyish honesty. "Where were you all day?"

"At school," Adam answered.

"I meant,  _where were you_?" Ronan asked, knowing Adam knew what he'd meant the first time.

"I was  _at school_ ," Adam repeated meaningfully. "I have to pay attention sometimes, you know."

"Is Imaginary People school so hard?" Ronan asked, a joke. With a secretly serious undertone to it.

"I'm not imaginary," was Adam's constant answer to this accusation. " _You're_  the one that's in  _my_ head."

"It's the other way around," Ronan informed him, as always.

"Says the boy who lives in my head." Adam scoffed. "I definitely believe him."

"Jerk," Ronan mumbled. He was starting to get a headache, which was odd. He hadn't gotten them in so long. They'd started the night he first ever talked to Adam. And every time the pain started to come on, he realized quickly it was a sign that Adam's presence would soon follow. It was in and out like that for almost two years. And then the connection had been much more stable, controllable, and with fewer and fewer accompanying headaches until they went away completely.

"Can we talk later?" Adam asked, his voice quiet and pained. "My head's killing me."

A strangely satisfied thrill pulsed inside Ronan. It sucked that they both had headaches, but at least they were in it together.

"Mine too," Ronan told him. "Weird. I'd thought they'd gone away."

"Gone away?" Adam asked. "You get them a lot?"

"I used to," Ronan said. He explained the Adam-Headaches briefly.

Adam made a troubled sounding noise. "You never told me that."

"Why would I have?" Ronan wanted to know.

"You think us talking is what brings on the headaches?" Adam sounded weird.

"I don't know," Ronan said. "Maybe."

"I never got any," Adam mused softly. "Until now...I guess."

Ronan experienced a flash of panic, worried now that Adam wouldn't want to talk to him anymore, if he thought their conversations were the cause.

"It's probably just a coincidence," he said quickly. And then, "I don't mind them, anyway."

His head was full on throbbing now, and he tried not to make that last statement a lie.

Adam groaned in pain. "I've gotta go," he told Ronan, "I'm sorry. I'll talk to you later."

"Promise?" Ronan prompted, young and shameless in his vulnerability.

"Yeah," Adam said, his voice as comforting and familiar as always. "I promise."

Ronan worried about the headache, still, even as he was going to sleep that night. Did it mean they were losing the connection? That it was going to fade in and out like it had years back? Maybe go away completely? He tried not to think about that. He tried not to be disappointed that Adam hadn't ever come back, even though he promised. When he'd tentatively reached out a few times throughout the day, he found he couldn't feel even a wisp of Adam's presence, it was just like reaching out into dark air and feeling nothing. He figured that meant Adam was just asleep.

Just as Ronan was beginning to drift off himself, his senses buzzed to life, jolting him fully awake.

"You there?" Adam's voice was a soft whisper in his head.

Ronan smiled, excited and pleased. "Yeah," he whispered back.

"Can you...hear me?" Adam sounded sort of amazed.

"Obviously," Ronan was confused.

"I'm not talking." Adam told him.

Now Ronan was annoyed. "Yes you are."

"No, I mean, I'm not saying anything out loud."

Adam asked him again, "You can really hear me?"

"Yes." Ronan said. "What you do mean?"

"I'm just thinking it." Adam said. "You try it."

"I..." Ronan was bothered by this. It was new and strange and he wasn't sure he liked it. "I don't think I can. I don't know how."

"You just think whatever you want to say to me instead of saying it." Adam explained very badly. Still, Ronan tried. He thought,  _this is weird_.

"Did you hear that?" Ronan asked when Adam said nothing in response.

"No," Adam sounded disappointed. "Try again."

"Adam," Ronan said. "I don't think I like this."

"Just keep trying!" Adam insisted. "You just have to really focus. I know you can do it. Why would I be able to do it if you can't?"

 _I don't_ _ **know**_ , Ronan thought miserably.

"Were you thinking that or did you say it?"

"I was thinking it."

"See? I told you." Adam sounded so excited, it was getting harder and harder for Ronan to be upset.

 _What does this mean_ , Ronan wondered. Not even meaning for Adam to hear it. But he did.

"I don't know," was his unsolicited reply. "But it's cool, isn't it?"

 _I guess so_ , Ronan thought slowly.

"You guess?!" Adam was incredulous. "We can be as loud as we want, now, just in our heads, no one can hear us but us."

Put like that, it did sound sort of nice.  _Yeah, you're right_. Ronan relented.

They stayed up half the night talking. Eventually both their heads started to hurt again, but Adam was so enthralled with their new ability, he told Ronan he didn't even care. It was worth it, he had said. Ronan turned those words over in his head round and round again until his tired little body forced him into unconsciousness. He'd discovered a new state of being that night, being too happy to sleep.

* * *

 

"It was awesome. And—" Ronan paused, feeling Adam's presence slide away from him. He reached out and grasped it hard with his mind. "Adam, are you listening?"

"Yeah," Adam said. "I'm listening."

And then, "Where are you, exactly?"

"Out." Ronan said simply. "Walking."

"You're not even thinking, are you?" Adam sighed. "You're just talking out loud to yourself for the whole world to see."

"Who cares?" Ronan scoffed. "It's easier this way. I don't have to think so hard. And it doesn't make my head hurt."

"It wouldn't hurt at all, if you'd practice more." Adam reminded him. "I haven't had one in months."

"What _ever_ ," Ronan drawled. "You know you're starting to sound like Gansey."

Adam made a noncommittal noise in response.

Adam always got a little weird when Ronan talked to him about Gansey or Noah. At nearly fourteen, Ronan had finally somehow managed to make a couple of friends, boys he'd met at school. Adam had cynically told him it was a little sad to him, that the boy who lived in his head was making friends and he wasn't.

Ronan had reminded him, as he often had to, that he did not in fact live in his head. That it was Adam that lived in  _his_ head. And as non-paying guest in Ronan's brain, he really ought to learn his place. Adam had laughed at that.

"I wish you could hang out with us," Ronan told Adam earnestly. "I think you'd like them. And they'd like you."

Adam made another indifferent sort of noise.

"I told them about you," Ronan said.

He could feel Adam's heartbeat pounding inside his head.

"Why?" Adam finally asked.

Ronan shrugged as he walked, wondering if Adam could feel it on his end. "Because I wanted to."

"What did they say?"

"They didn't really get it at first, like, they kept asking me if I could make you come out, like as if you were an alternate personality of mine or something. I was like, no, guys, it's not that kind of thing. Adam's not a part of me. He's a totally separate person. He just happens to live in my head, for whatever reason."

"I don't live in your head, though." Adam was indignant.

"Whatever," Ronan said pleasantly. "The point is, they finally got it after some explaining. Gansey said you sounded 'very interesting'. Noah told me to tell you hi."

"This is weird," Adam said, "Now it just feels like I have three people living in my head. I really  _am_ crazy."

"I'm the crazy one," Ronan argued. "Stop trying to steal my thunder."

It seemed that both Adam and Ronan existed in a strange sort of limbo of precariously suspended disbelief when it came to the actual existence of each other. They took each other's lives seriously and one never disputed any fact they told the other. But there was always that ever-present doubt in the back of their minds, that this was all just a self-made manifestation, that there was no actual boy somewhere out there in the world who was perfectly alive and normal aside from the fact that they talked to another boy in their head sometimes, that they were actually just talking to themselves.

Regardless of whether or not Adam was really real, Ronan implicitly adored him. He'd been with him for almost half his life now. He wasn't exactly a friend. That word just didn't really sound right. Noah was his friend. Nor was he like a brother, though he was certainly closer with Adam than he was with his actual brother Declan. But, no. That's not what it felt like. Matthew was his brother. Gansey felt like his brother. Adam...

There just wasn't a word for what Adam felt like to Ronan. At least not one that he knew of.

The connection between them was so hard to explain, surreal at times, but he'd been experiencing it since he was a little boy, and these days it just felt so normal to him, he couldn't imagine life without it. In fact, it really freaked him out to even think about it. He remembered back when the headaches had started up again, about two years ago, and he'd been afraid it meant the connection was being lost. If anything, it had only gotten stronger since then. They could do the think-talking thing now. And they could feel each other so much more, too. Which sounded much weirder than it felt. When one was feeling something strongly enough: anger, elation, fear, the other would feel it too. It became impossible to lie to each other. Ronan liked that. Ronan liked feeling Adam's presence. Ronan liked the physical aspect of it as well. The ghostly feeling of Adam running his fingers through his hair bleeding into Ronan's own scalp. The rumble of Adam's laughter vibrating in his own stomach. Okay, maybe it was a little weird. But in a good way.

Well. There was that time Ronan had woken up in the middle of the night feeling Adam in a very... _specific_  way that he definitely did not intend to feel. Ronan had simply swallowed down the confusing feelings and forced himself to go back to sleep, not daring to let his presence be known. But then it had happened to Adam too. And of course Adam being Adam, he had to go and awkwardly bring it up, and Ronan had to confess it had happened to him before, which totally freaked Adam out, and they basically just tensely came to the conclusion that it was fine if it happened, that it was all just a fine little accident, but they should definitely never speak of it. Which they didn't. Ever again.

Though that didn't stop Ronan from thinking about it. Which he did. A lot.

Maybe  _that_  was weird. Ronan didn't know. He tried not to worry about it too much.

* * *

 

Everything changed, on a Thursday, in Algebra class.

 _Want to help me cheat on a test?_ Ronan thought to Adam. He was getting really good at this think-to-talk business these days.

He could feel Adam, close, just within his reach. Though he gave no response. He tugged on Adam's presence with his mind, forcing him closer.

"I can't really talk right now," Adam finally hissed. Ronan felt a fraught wave of anxiety swirl inside him. Not his. Adam's.

 _What's wrong?_ Ronan looked down at his desk, _Adam?_

"Ronan, stop. I can't talk right now, okay?" Adam's voice sounded so far away. Watery and tight, like he was forcing each word out with great difficulty.

 _You sound really weird._ Ronan's stomach twisted.  _What's going on?_

"Ronan—" was the last thing he heard before his head snapped back violently, a heavy blunt force stinging against his face. He let out a strangled cry. The class abruptly turned to gape at him.

Ronan blinked once, wincing from the pain that still lingered throughout his cheeks and nose.

And then another sharp gust of pain hit. This time in his stomach. It knocked him out of his chair.

Another hard smack to the side of his head. A kick to the ribs. Kids were jumping up out of their seats now, pointing and murmuring. He heard the squeak of the teacher's chair drag back. Urgent footsteps. It didn't take him long to realize what was happening.

 _Adam!_ Ronan yelled inside his head.  _Are you seriously getting in a fight right now?_

The invisible blows rained down on him, one right after the other.

 _What are you doing?_ Ronan thought frantically.  _Fight back!_

"What's wrong with him?" he heard a nearby kid wonder aloud in panic.

"I think he's having a seizure!"

"Go get the nurse. Now." That was the teacher's voice. He felt hands on his face. He heard his name being called. And after one last swift blow to the stomach, he felt the world going dark.

* * *

 

He woke up in the nurse's room, jolting upright, completely forgetting anything other than the panic inside him as he called out, "ADAM!"

He felt gentle, familiar hands on his chest, pushing him softly back down. He breathed hard against them, looking wildly up into the concerned eyes of his mother.

"Mom," he breathed out, a little disoriented. "Adam. Adam...he's hurt. I have to find him."

His mother frowned. "We'll talk about it when we get home, alright?"

"No, mom, I'm serious!" He pushed her hands off him, trying to sit up again. "It was bad. It was really bad."

"I know, sweetheart," his mom sounded so patronizing and he hated it. Adam was out there, somewhere, probably hurt and alone. He needed to find him. He needed to know if he was okay. "Let's get you home and into bed, you can tell me all about what happened, then. Okay?"

It wasn't even kind of okay. But his mother already looked so worried and he didn't want to upset her further. With a reluctant nod, he agreed to these useless terms.

It wasn't until almost a full hour later, when he was tucked into his own bed and drank a whole glass of water and eaten the entire sandwich his mother made him, that she was finally willing to listen.

"Okay," she said, pushing the short hairs on Ronan's head back soothingly. "Tell me what happened."

"Adam got hurt, that's what happened." Ronan said plainly. "And I felt it."

His mother frowned. "I'm not sure I know what exactly you mean."

He sighed. "I don't know how else to explain it! I was talking to Adam, just normal, well, except he was acting weird. And then all of a sudden I started getting hit out of nowhere. I think Adam was in a fight. I kept telling him to fight back, but he wouldn't listen! Maybe he couldn't hear me..." Ronan shook his head miserably. "If I blacked out, then it must've been because he did too. What if he's not okay, mom? I've tried talking to him but he won't answer. Do you think he's still passed out? Mom?"

His mother's frown only deepened. "Are you saying you were...fighting with Adam? That's how this happened?"

"Mom!" Ronan was at the edge of his wits. "No!  _I_  wasn't fighting him. Someone else was. I don't know who but that's not the point!"

"Tell me what the point is, then. Help me understand." she said, still so calm and sweet. She didn't believe him. Ronan realized that now. She thought he was talking crazy. Great. This wasn't going to get him anywhere. He slumped back against his pillows.

"Never mind." he said. He turned over in bed, away from her. "Just. Never mind."

His mother sighed. "We'll talk more when your father gets home." She leaned over to kiss the side of his head. When she left, he reached out for Adam again, begging him to say something if he was there. He got no response.

Hours later, he heard the soft, deliberate footsteps of his little brother padding barefoot into his room.

"What?" Ronan turned to look at him. He still had his backpack slung over his shoulders. School must've just gotten out.

"Just checking on you," Matthew said with a small smile. "Mom said you came home sick today."

Ronan shrugged.

"I heard mom talking to dad on the phone about you when I walked in."

That got Ronan's attention. "What were they saying?"

"They were talking about taking you to see a doctor."

"What?" Ronan sat up at that. "Why?"

Matthew shrugged. "Cause you're sick, I guess."

"Did you hear anything else?" Ronan asked him.

Matthew furrowed his brow in concentration. Finally he said, "No, not really."

Ronan hit his pillow in frustration.

Matthew just looked at him, silently waiting for an explanation.

Ronan shook his head. "Mom thinks I'm crazy."

"Why?" Matthew asked.

"She thinks I'm making all this stuff about Adam up. I know she does. She used to tell me she believed me, but she doesn't."

"I believe you," Matthew said.

Ronan huffed. "Thanks."

He talked with Matthew for a little while, his presence always had a calming sort of effect on him, he zoned in and out as Matthew excitedly narrated the events of his schoolday, still trying to reach out to Adam and coming up more agonizingly empty every time.

Later, Ronan's mother came in again to inform him that Gansey and Noah had stopped by, asking after him. Of course they must have heard about what had happened at school. Everyone was surely talking about it. He could imagine all the rumors that must be flying around, but he didn't care about that. He didn't care that his mom thought he was crazy now, or that she didn't believe him. All he cared about was Adam.

"I don't need to go to a doctor," Ronan told his mother.

"Been eavesdropping, have we?" She quirked her mouth slightly.

Not wanting to involve Matthew and possibly get him in any trouble, he simply shrugged.

She lifted a hand to run it through his hair again. "What kind of mother would I be if I wasn't worried about you?"

Ronan just shrugged again.

Dread pulling at his heart, not wanting to know the answer at all, he asked her, "What did dad say?"

"All I told him," she surprised him by seeming to know the actual question he'd wanted to ask, "was about what happened at school."

"So you didn't tell him you think I'm crazy," he translated, crossing his arms over his chest.

He regretted the words a moment later, seeing the wounded looking in his mother's eyes.

"Now, did I ever say that?"

She was always talking like that, asking instead of telling.

"That's what it felt like," Ronan admitted shamefully. "I thought you believed me. About Adam."

"I do believe everything you've told me is true to you," she said, which seemed very much like his mother's way of saying she didn't.

"But," she went on, "Just because it's true, doesn't mean it's good for you. Have you ever thought about that?"

Another question.

"No," Ronan said. "Talking to Adam makes me happy. Of course it's good for me."

"Sometimes the things that makes us happy aren't always good for us, and it just makes it that much harder to see it."

"But Adam's not bad." Ronan argued. "He's my..." His words stopped short.  _Best friend_ just seemed too stupid to say out loud. And that wasn't what Adam was to him, anyway. Finally, he settled on, "he  _is_  good for me."

"How about this," his mother said slowly, "for now, I'll let this go. I'll trust what you say. But if something like this happens again—"

"You'll have me locked up like a crazy person," Ronan grumbled.

His mother frowned at him. Then she said, "If something like this happens again, then I'll have to talk to your father about it. And we'll decide what to do from there."

"Sounds like a threat," Ronan said.

"It's a deal," his mother smiled softly at him. "A very generous deal."

"So what are you going to tell dad, then?"

"That you and I talked about what happened and I don't think there's anything to worry about," she said simply.

"You're going to lie?" Ronan was mildly appalled.

"I told you I'm trusting what you've told me," his mother reminded him patiently. "That wasn't a lie."

"Okay," Ronan said. And then, with heat in his cheeks, "thank you."

She kissed him and left him to get some more rest.

* * *

 

Adam didn't come back until late the next day, when the sun was starting to set.

"Hey," he heard Adam's voice clear and calm in his head.

Hey?  _Hey_? The last two days had been a sick worrying hell for Ronan. And all he sad to say for himself was _hey_?

"What," Ronan said out loud, then thankfully remembered to aggressively think the next two words lest his mother hear him,  _the fuck?_

"Sorry about yesterday," Adam said, casual as a light breeze. "What's up?"

 _What's_... _up_? Ronan was incredulous.  _What the hell is wrong with you?_

A silent pause. Then, "What do you mean?"

_How can you just act like nothing happened?_

"I said I was sorry," Adam replied. "I...had to do something. I'll help you cheat on your next test." He felt a hot slice of panic in his chest. Adam's.

"Don't be mad at me," Adam said, sounding all at once quiet and miserable.

Ronan's anger deflated.

 _I'm...not_ , he told him.  _I'm just confused. I was so worried about you and you're just acting...fine._

"Worried?" Now Adam sounded confused. "Why—wouldn't I be fine?"

 _Um,_ Ronan scoffed in his head.  _Maybe because you got the living hell beat out of you yesterday?_

Another, longer, silent pause. The knife of anxiety in Adam's chest twisted painfully, Ronan could feel it.

"How do you know about that?" Adam finally asked.

 _Because I felt it_ , Ronan told him without thinking.

"You...felt it." Adam repeated, his voice tight.

 _I blacked out in the middle of class and had to be sent to the nurse,_ Ronan explained with a complete lack of foresight.  _They thought I had some kind of fit or something. It took all day to get my mom off my back. She was really freaked. Whatever._

"I don't understand," Adam said. "You're hurt, then? I mean...do you have bruises?"

 _No,_ Ronan said.  _It hurt like hell at the time but I'm fine now. I'm guessing you've got tons, though. Jesus, Adam. What did you, pick on someone twice your size?_

"Has anything like this ever happened before?" Adam's voice was stern. "Your body feeling what happens to mine?"

 _No,_ Ronan said again.  _I mean...well...except for the time we uh...don't talk about._ Ronan felt his face go warm.

Adam was silent again. Finally he said, very quietly, "I'm sorry."

Ronan scoffed again. _It's not your fault, I mean, it's not like you knew. Just warn me next time you decide to get your ass kicked._

 _Better yet,_ Ronan went on,  _Let me teach you how to fight._

"That's," Adam said, "not necessary."

 _I think it is,_ Ronan persisted.  _I felt every bit of it, remember? You didn't even try to throw one punch._

"Every bit of it..." was all Adam said in response.

_Why didn't you fight back?_

Adam gave an odd, humorless laugh that rattled around in Ronan's head uncomfortably.

"That's not really an option." Adam said flatly.

 _Why the hell not?_ Ronan wanted to know.

"It would only make it worse," Adam told him.

 _Are you being bullied?_ Ronan asked.

Another long pause before Adam spoke, "You...could say that."

Ronan felt an icy rush of anger and adrenaline. If only  _he_  could fight whoever was messing with Adam.

_I wish I was there. I'd take them out for you._

Adam laughed genuinely at that.

 _I would!_ Ronan said adamantly. He'd put the fear of God in them.

But he couldn't do that. He was helpless in this situation. And that infuriated him.

 _Adam,_ he said.  _You've got to start standing up for yourself._

"We need to figure out why this happened," Adam said, "You feeling what I was feeling. And how to make it stop."

Ronan didn't want that. He'd grown so accustomed to  _feeling_  Adam that he could scarcely separate it from his own feelings. And he liked it. He liked himself being mixed up in Adam. He liked knowing when Adam was upset, or angry, or scared. He liked being able to share that burden with him, to share everything with him. He did not want that to stop.

 _Or_ , Ronan said,  _you could just let me teach you how to fight and it won't happen again._

"It'll always happen, Ronan."

Adam sounded different now. His voice was so small. And sad. "It's never going to stop."

 _Can't you just try to avoid them?_ Ronan tried a different approach.

"Believe me, I try my hardest." Adam scoffed bitterly. "It's not exactly easy. And it doesn't make a difference, anyway. I try not to make him mad. But no matter what I do—" he stopped talking abruptly. Ronan felt a sour mixture of shame and guilt settling heavy inside him. Adam's.

Ronan felt a sudden sickening twist of  _wrongness_  to this entire situation. Something he'd been missing all this time. Something unthinkable. But he thought it anyway.

 _Adam_ , he said,  _is it someone from your school?_

"No," Adam said.

 _Kid in your neighborhood?_ He tried again.

"No," Adam said.

Ronan swallowed. He was thinking a very wrong thing and very much did not want it to be right.

_Is it a kid at all?_

A moment passed. Then Adam said, for the third time, "No."

His voice shook when he said it. Ronan felt like he was about to cry. Which meant that Adam was about to cry.

 _You can tell me, Adam,_ he whispered.

"I can't," Adam's words were drawn tight. Ronan could feel the pressure in his own throat. "I can't."

Ronan needed to choose his next sentence carefully. He needed to let Adam know that he knew, that he understood, without upsetting him, or pushing him away. He couldn't risk that now. He needed Adam as close as possible to him right now. He needed to figure out how he was going to fix this. Because he  _was_  going to fix this.

Finally, he said,  _can you tell your mom?_

Adam said, "she knows."

Ronan was disgusted.  _She just lets it happen?_

"It's not her fault!" Ronan felt Adam's anger, his white hot offense. "It's not that fucking simple, okay?"

 _I'm sorry,_ Ronan said quickly, _I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry._

"You just don't understand."

 _Help me understand_ , said Ronan, sounding very much like his mother.  _I just want to help you._

"Well you can't," Adam's voice was sharp. "Let's just drop this. I'm going to figure out a way to keep you from feeling what I feel and then you can just forget about it, okay?"

 _No,_ Ronan thought.  _I will never forget about this._ But he kept those thoughts private. He couldn't stand Adam being upset with him. So he numbly agreed to squash the subject.

That night Ronan had a nightmare he was in a long, dark hallway that came to a stop in the form of a large white door with cracked and peeling paint. He could hear Adam's voice, yelling for help, calling for him, from the other side of the door. Through dreamer's logic, he knew instinctively the door was locked. He kicked at it. Slammed his body up against it. Pounded at it with his fists. No matter what he did the door wouldn't budge. Adam was on the other side of it, hurt, needing him, calling for him, but he just couldn't get through. He had an unwavering nonsensical certainty that this was somehow all his fault. All at once the yelling stopped. It was disturbingly quiet. He called Adam's name, over and over, but got no response. And instantly he knew it was because Adam was gone forever. And it was his fault, all his fault. He wasn't strong enough or smart enough. He couldn't save him in time.

He woke up, chest heaving, drenched in sweat. He laid awake in bed until the sun rose, too terrified to go back to sleep.

* * *

 

Weeks passed. Ronan made good on his promise and didn't bring up what he could barely even think to himself without throwing up.

Adam was being abused. By his father. There, he thought it.

He wanted to throw up.

Adam was being distant with him. Their conversations grew shorter, and farther apart. Adam claimed he was just busy with school. Ronan knew better, of course.

When he couldn't take it anymore one afternoon, about a month after The Incident, he said to Adam,  _why don't you want to talk to me anymore?_

Adam answered immediately with, "What are you talking about? I always want to talk to you."

The words would have filled him with enough endorphins to run on for days if he wasn't so worried about what was actually going on.

 _You aren't acting like it,_ Ronan told him.

"Well, sorry." Adam sounded more annoyed than sorry. "I've just got a lot going on right now."

 _Mm_ , was all Ronan could manage.

"I know what you're thinking," Adam said.

 _Oh?_ Ronan said.  _Is that new?_

"I meant I know you well enough to know what you're thinking, asshole."

Ronan liked it when Adam swore. He couldn't help but smile.

"What are you smiling about?" Adam asked.

 _Who says I was_?

"I can feel it, stupid."

 _Oh,_ Ronan said. These days he made sure not to bring up anything he felt from Adam. He futilely hoped he'd just forget about it.

Of course he wouldn't, which was verified when Adam said, "I've been doing some research."

_Research?_

"Yeah, to see if there's a way I can make it to where you won't feel the stuff I feel. And vice-versa, I guess. I don't know how it all works yet."

Ronan didn't like the sound of that.  _How what all works?_

"Well," Adam said, sounding a little embarrassed. "I've been researching some...spells."

 _Spells?_ Ronan snorted.  _Like, magic? You can't be serious._

"You believe you have an inexplicable psychic connection with a boy you've never met, but you don't believe in magic?"

 _You're just a figment of my imagination,_ Ronan reminded him. He hoped it would make Adam laugh.

It did.

He smiled and this time Adam didn't have to ask why.

* * *

 

On the eve of Ronan's fifteenth birthday, the world abruptly came to an end.

It was late at night and urgency was throbbing in his veins.

 _What are you doing?_ he asked Adam.  _You feel frantic._

"I think I've got it." Adam sounded slightly crazed.

Got what?

"The spell."

 _Jesus Christ_ , Ronan grumbled.  _You're still obsessed with that? Give it a rest so I can get some sleep. You're keeping me up._

"That won't be a problem very much longer."

Ronan sat up in bed.  _What does that mean?_

Adam sighed. "It means we need to have a talk."

 _I'm listening._  Ronan's heart hammered.

"This is the only thing I've found that I think is really going to work this time."

 _This time?_ Ronan asked.

"I've been at this for weeks, but nothing's worked so far."

 _I can't believe you've been doing this without fucking telling me._  Ronan was hurt.

"It didn't matter," Adam told him. "If it had worked then you just wouldn't have to feel the things I do and that would have solved the problem."

 _You're not just experimenting on yourself, here Adam._ Ronan told him hotly _. You're doing this to_ _ **us**_ _._

"I'm doing this  _for_  us," Adam said, sounding more and more like a mad scientist by the minute. "For you."

_But I don't want this._

"This spell is different than the others. It's a sort of...blocking spell. It says it's for keeping your thoughts unreadable, your true feelings undetectable, but I think it will do...what I need it to do."

 _Adam,_ Ronan said. He felt dizzy with anxiety. His.  _What are you saying?_

"I'm saying that if I do this right, it should sever our connection completely."

Ronan's heart dropped into his stomach. _Why?_ was all he could manage.

"I have to," Adam told him. "You know I do. I told you. I have to do this."

 _No, you don't._ Ronan felt like he couldn't breathe.  _You just want to get rid of me._ The realization hurt far worse than any blow, real or invisible ever could.

"That's not true," Adam said sternly. "You think I want to do this? Just the thought of it is killing me."

 _Then don't do it_ , Ronan begged.  _Adam, just listen to me. We'll find another way._

"This is the only way, Ronan." Adam said, "Trust me, I have exhausted every resource imaginable."

 _Adam, please._ Ronan's throat was tight.

"I can't let you get hurt because of me," Adam told him with resonant finality. "I won't."

 _But I don't care, Adam. I don't care if I get hurt. If you're hurt, then I want to be hurt too._  His chest ached. His eyes burned with tears. _You shouldn't have to go through that shit alone. Just let me go through it with you._

"No," Adam said. That was all, just no.

Ronan's head spun. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't really be going through with this. No. He could still talk him out of it.  _Is it really worth losing each other? Forever?_

"Protecting you?" Adam asked. "Yeah."

"You're the one that needs protection!" Ronan exploded, forgetting to think instead of talk.

"Let me worry about myself," Adam said.

"Why?" Ronan scoffed. "You're not doing the fucking same for me."

"That's different," Adam said.

"It's not," Ronan argued. "You're being such a hypocrite."

"What about you?" Adam wanted to know. "You wouldn't do the same if you were in my position?"

"No," Ronan told him honestly. "I'd find another way. I wouldn't give you up for anything."

"But there is no other way," Adam said. "Ronan, don't you understand that if there was, if there was anything else—never mind. I'm doing this. I'm keeping you safe. That's the end of this."

The end of this. Ronan's eyes watered. "Adam," he pleaded, his voice thick with tears.

"Ronan," Adam said his name so softly, tenderly, and he hated it. It sounded like an apology. It sounded like goodbye.

"Don't," Ronan didn't care how desperate, how needy he sounded. "Please don't do this, Adam. Please. I need you."

"You don't need me, Ronan," Adam said. "You've got friends. A family that loves you."

"That doesn't mean I don't need  _you_." Tears were falling freely down his face now.

"Ronan," Adam said, "Listen. I'll miss you—so much. But it...has to be this way. It has to. I have to do this. I don't have control over anything in my life. Except this."

"I hate you," Ronan choked out childishly. "If you do this, I'll hate you."

"I guess that's fair," Adam said, and then his voice got tight and watery when he added, "but I wish you wouldn't."

Ronan sucked in a hard breath. He waited for Adam to say something more. After a minute of silence, he called out to him.

"Adam?"

Nothing.

 _Adam?_ he tried again just inside his head.

Nothing.

_ADAM!_

It wasn't like the times when Adam was sleeping, or simply mentally out of his reach for whatever reason. This was...hellish. At least back then he could still reach out, feel the lack of Adam's presence, feel  _something_. Even if it was just dead air. Now, he couldn't even reach out to feel for Adam, or anything, at all. It was like there was an immense wall blocking him from all sides. It was like he was stuck. Unable to move. Frozen still while the absence of Adam drowned him from the inside out.

Ronan laid back down in bed. He'd stopped crying.

The clock struck midnight. Ronan was a year older. Adam was gone.

He felt nothing.


	2. Muscle Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just fyi -- the timeline of certain events differs from canon in this story, it makes more sense in this universe this way (to me, at least lol), hopefully it makes sense while reading!

_When I am alone, I see you in the dark_  
_I talk into the empty like you were with me_  
_Started on a cold night, felt you in the low light_  
_Noticing the reflex taking over me_  
_I see you when I reach, muscle memory_

"[Muscle Memory](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jFqFaYOYdUg)" — Lights

* * *

 

Ronan was angry.

That much was clear to anyone who occupied the same 500 foot radius he did.

But it was more than that, of course.

Ronan was depressed. Ronan was lonely. Ronan didn't care. About anything. But really, it was that he cared too much about everything.`Ronan stayed up for days. Ronan slept through entire weekends. Ronan wouldn't get out of bed. Ronan would disappear and not return home for hours.

Ronan was a hurricane, a vicious vortex of nothing but razor sharp contradictory debris. The only constant being the underlying rage that simmered inside him, threatening to boil over at any moment.

Ronan was a mess.

And everyone knew it.

Even Declan would pop his head into his room on occasion and ask him if he wanted to go to the grocery store with him, or watch a movie, or something.

Ronan had, of course, told Declan in no uncertain terms to go fuck himself.

He lashed out at everyone, finding the only person it was impossible to be an asshole to was Matthew, though his presence no longer had any sort of calming effect on him. It only made him angry.

Everything made him angry these days.

He was angry at himself. If only he hadn't ever said anything to Adam about that day, about feeling what he'd felt, then this wouldn't have happened. He couldn't stop fantasizing about turning back time, redoing that day, keeping his mouth shut. He made himself sick with guilt.

He was angry at Adam. Adam, who left him. Adam, who didn't care about him at all. If he did, he wouldn't have left him. He wouldn't. It hurt. He hated thinking about how much it hurt. He hated thinking about Adam at all.

He was angry at his family, his friends. Just because. He didn't even understand why he was angry at them. They hadn't done anything. But he couldn't help it. Their worried looks, their tentative smiles, infuriated him.

He wanted to punch holes in walls, kick dents into cars, into other people, into himself. He wanted to destroy. He started getting in fights. A small, tucked away part of him that he pretended didn't exist was always afraid somehow Adam might feel something from it. And even in all his hurt and anger, his storm of a brain quieted only in the worry of  _Adam_  getting hurt. Adam's life was violent enough, he didn't need an extra dose from Ronan's newfound extra-curricular activities. Which was why Ronan always made sure to win.

Ronan had been sneaking into his father's liquor cabinet for weeks, helping himself to shots of God knows what, he didn't care. He didn't even care about getting drunk. That wasn't the point. He just wanted to run himself into the ground. To not have to feel anything for awhile.

That was the last straw for Ronan's mother. He supposed their deal was officially null and void when she informed him she'd made him an appointment with a doctor.

A psychiatrist.

He'd just shrugged at her. It didn't really matter to him anymore.

* * *

 

"It was me that told mom about you drinking dad's stuff," Matthew whispered while Ronan laced up his boots, his mother waiting for him in the car. "Not Declan."

Ronan snorted. "Whatever."

"You should say sorry," Matthew said, "for breaking his nose."

"Free rhinoplasty," Ronan told him.

"It's crooked," Matthew said.

"An improvement, if you ask me."

"Are you gonna hit me too?" Matthew asked. "I think you should. It's only fair."

"Don't be stupid." Ronan ran a hand through his little brother's hair.

"I'm sorry I told on you. I was just scared."

"It's okay, Matthew," Ronan sighed. He pulled his brother in for a hug. "I'm sorry for scaring you."

"Are you gonna be okay now?" Matthew asked as he buried his head into Ronan's neck.

"Don't worry about me." Ronan ran a reassuring hand down Matthew's back.

"I gotta go," Ronan said, hearing his mother start the car from outside.

"Good luck," Matthew told him. He kissed his brother on the top of his head and left.

Ronan didn't want to talk. He told the man, the doctor, that.

"I have nothing to say," he told him with a careless shrug.

The man had told him that was alright, then they'd just sit. Ronan figured it must have been some kind of trick, that eventually the old creep would announce that he was being childish and ridiculous and hand his parents a prescription for some zombie pills and send him on his way.

But they just sat. At the end of the hour, the man told him maybe next time, he'd have something to say, and that he looked forward to seeing him again.

Ronan did not have anything to say the next time they saw each other, two days later, and for another complete hour they sat again in silence. Ronan felt awkward, on edge, uncomfortable.

The man, however, seemed unbothered by Ronan's refusal to speak or the tense silence they'd sat through twice now.

A routine emerged.

And always, after their time was up, he'd say the same thing. That maybe Ronan would have something to say the next time, and that he was looking forward to seeing him again.

Finally, on the sixth appointment, the man spoke halfway through the hourly silence Ronan had become familiar with.

"I am curious about something in particular," he said.

Ronan said nothing in response.

"May I ask you something, Ronan?"

Ronan gritted his teeth, he hated when people attached his name to the end of sentences like that. It always sounded so condescending.

But again, Ronan said nothing.

Ronan expected him to take his silence as permission to continue, but he said nothing more. And the rest of the hour passed as it always did these past three weeks.

It bothered Ronan all weekend. On Monday, when he was due to see the man again, he found himself anxiously awaiting the appointment. What did he want to ask him? Why hadn't he just asked in the first place? Ronan was annoyed and curious but mostly annoyed. Still angry. Always angry.

Ronan expected the subject to be brought up again during that next appointment. But of course, it wasn't. The man, instead, simply asked Ronan if it was alright with him if he worked while they sat. Ronan looked down at his shoes and shrugged. The only sounds that filled the room after that were the odd rifling of papers, the opening and closing of files, the scratch of a pen.

Ronan looked at the clock on the wall above their heads. Thirteen minutes until the hour was up. He twisted his mouth. He clenched his fists. He blurted out, "What were you going to ask me?"

The man looked up. Said nothing. Ronan wasn't going to repeat his question.

Finally, he said, "I was going to ask you about your friend."

That wasn't what Ronan had been expecting at all. He narrowed his eyes. "What friend?"

He said, "the one you lost."

Ronan closed his eyes.

"At any age," the man went on, "Losing a friend is one of the most difficult things in life. But at your age, I think, it's especially rough."

"I didn't," Ronan said, eyes still closed, "lose him."

"He's still around, then?"

"No." Ronan opened his eyes. "He  _left_."

"Ah," the man said. "I see."

Ronan rolled his eyes and looked away.

"He just disappeared?"

"Why are you asking me all this?" Ronan wanted to know.

The man shrugged casually. "I told you, I'm curious."

"Seems awfully rude of him," he said after a moment, "to leave you without giving any reason."

Offense welled up in Ronan. This guy didn't know what the hell he was talking about. "He didn't just disappear. He told me what he was doing."

"Do you know why he left?"

"Yes," Ronan answered evenly.

"I'm not telling you," Ronan added a beat later. "It's none of your business."

"So you had this friend, and he recently left, due to...let's say...personal reasons?"

"Thanks for the recap." Ronan couldn't hide his contempt.

"Just making sure I understand the situation."

Ronan was sure he didn't, but he said nothing more.

After another moment of silence, the man said, "you must miss him."

Ronan said, "I don't need him. I have other friends. Real ones."

"Real ones?" the man asked, seeming genuinely confused.

"I'm pretty sure you know what I mean," Ronan said. He knew his mother must have briefed the guy on what had been going on with him, why he was here in the first place.

"You don't think your friend was real?"

"Obviously not," Ronan said. "He literally lived inside my head."

"He was important to you," the man said.

Ronan just shrugged. "Whatever. It doesn't matter."

"Why not?"

"Because he's gone," Ronan said. "And he's not coming back."

"How do you know for sure?"

"I just do." Ronan said.

"Well," he said, "that doesn't change the fact that his absence has certainly had an effect on you. Even if  _he_  wasn't real, what you're going through certainly is."

Ronan's chest felt tight with something, an unidentifiable emotion that wasn't entirely blind rage. Maybe it was some distant relative of relief. He squashed it down. "Hour's up," he said, fixing his gaze on the clock above them.

The man sighed, but gave Ronan a single slow nod before standing up and opening the door for him. He gave him, once again, the same old spiel about looking forward to seeing him again. Ronan made a nice show of scuffing his feet, rolling his shoulders indifferently, but in actuality, he felt a little bit lighter than he had when he'd come here today, than he had in weeks. He didn't know what that meant. He tried not to care.

* * *

 

By this time, Ronan ought to have learned to expect the unexpected when it came to his appointments with the weird doctor. But no, Ronan was surprised yet again when instead of niggling Ronan to pick up where they'd left off in discussion last time, he simply opened up a newspaper and starting going at a crosswords puzzle.

Ronan was annoyed at this. He didn't understand him. He used to tell Ronan every damn time how much he hoped he'd have something to say. And now that Ronan did, now that Ronan wanted to talk, he couldn't be less interested.

Another thing Ronan ought to have realized, by this time, was that this doctor was working a solid tactic, playing a long-game, getting Ronan to talk by so aggressively _not_ forcing him to talk. But Ronan's mind was too preoccupied in his own misery, his own anger, and bitterness. That, and he was only a few months freshly fifteen years old, and perhaps a bit of a sucker.

"So you don't think I'm crazy?" Ronan blurted out, twenty minutes into the session.

The man, the doctor, (who had a name, of course, but Ronan couldn't be bothered to remember it) looked up from his puzzle to gaze at Ronan levely. "Certainly not."

Ronan drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. "You really believe I had a friend that lived inside my head?"

"That's what you've told me," he said. As if that were the beginning and end of it.

"I could be lying," Ronan prompted.

"The way I see it," the doctor replied, "There are only two reasons you'd have to lie about such a thing. I could say this is all some sort of misguided attempt at garnering yourself some attention. But you don't seem very attention starved to me, Ronan."

Instead of reacting to that, Ronan asked, "what's the other reason?"

"That simply," the doctor said, "you are a liar. A person who takes pleasure in deceiving others."

Ronan bristled at that. "I'm not a liar," he retorted hotly.

"I didn't think so," the doctor agreed.

"You got any ideas about  _why_  I had a random person living inside my head, then?" Ronan laced his voice with bored sarcasm, though his inquiry was entirely genuine.

"Not really," the doctor answered rather unhelpfully. "Do you?"

Ronan scoffed. "You're the doctor."

"Well," he said, folding up his newspaper as if things has  _just_  gotten interesting. "There's still a lot I don't know about you and your friend. Maybe if you could clarify a few things for me, I might have a better foundation to build a theory on."

Ronan shrugged. "What do you want to know?"

The doctor smiled. "Everything."

"I," Ronan said, "don't really know where to start."

"You could try the beginning," the doctor suggested with the smallest hint of a smirk.

Ronan told him about the first time, when he'd woken up in the middle of the night at eight years old because he heard someone crying. He told him about the headaches. He told him about the think-talking. He told him about being able to  _feel_  things. He did not tell him about  _that night_. He did not tell him about  _that day_ , either. That information didn't belong to him. It wasn't his secret to tell.

He told him about the last time, the night before his birthday. The walls inside his head. He did not tell him about the emptiness that followed, or the anger that consumed him, or the need to self-destruct.

After he was finished, the doctor said, "hmm."

Ronan glared at him.

"For argument's sake," he told Ronan, "let's run with the idea that your friend is, in fact, a figment of your own imagination."

O...kay," Ronan said slowly.

"Imaginary friends," he went on, "are a fairly common part of a child's early brain development. They aid in the creation of social skills, the ability to communicate, solve problems, et cetera."

"What's your point?" Ronan asked.

"The key word in all that," the doctor said, "is child. Once a person starts to grow up, attend school, engage in daily interaction with other people their own age, they tend to lose interest in their imaginary friends until they're forgotten entirely."

"So," he continued before Ronan could come up with an adequately sarcastic response, "my question to you is, if your friend was indeed imaginary, why do you think you held on to him for so long?"

"He wasn't exactly _imaginary_ ," Ronan said. "I mean, not like that. It's not like I just got bored one day and said, 'Okay. This is Bob. He exists now. We're gonna go play outside. Hey mom, Bob wants to watch TV. Bob wants some ice cream. Or whatever." Ronan shook his head. "He just...showed up one night. And then he was just...there. I didn't control him."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Very." Ronan scoffed. "Trust me, he never listened to me." A painful twist of nostalgic fondness pulled inside Ronan's chest.

"I can't help but notice," the doctor said, "that your friend went away not too long after you'd made some new friends. Real ones, as you put it."

Ronan didn't entirely know what he was getting at with that statement, but it offended him regardless.

"Why don't you just give me a run-down on all the shit my mom's filled you in on about my life? Or is it more fun for you to spring it on me out of the blue?"

"I didn't mean to upset you, Ronan." The doctor looked genuinely apologetic. "I told you, I'm just trying to get to the bottom of this with you. I only thought that perhaps you may have had more of hand in your friend's departure than you realized. And that if you were to come to terms with that, it might make you feel better. Less abandoned. You see?"

"I didn't have anything to do with it," Ronan said. "I didn't want him to leave. That was all him. He made the choice for both of us."

"And I don't feel abandoned," he added as an afterthought.

The doctor didn't say anything for a moment. Then, "When you said he made the choice for both of you, what did you mean by that?"

Ronan let out a disgruntled breath. He didn't want to get into this.

"He..." Ronan paused to think about how he was going to word this. He didn't even really know why he was still talking but he'd already started and there was no point in stopping now. "He just decided it would be better...safer...for us...if we didn't talk anymore."

"You didn't agree?"

"No," Ronan said. "But he didn't care. He just did what he thought was best."

"At the risk of upsetting you again," the doctor spoke slowly, carefully. "I do have a theory. You're free to shoot it down if I'm wrong."

Ronan shrugged. "What."

"I think there's a possibility that this friend of yours manifested from a state of loneliness. I think perhaps he fulfilled a need in your life for a time. And when you started making friends, your need for him lessened. And instead of just sort of tapering off into inexistence, like imaginary friends tend to do, you might have needed to create something different. He'd been a part of your life for so long, you'd grown so attached to him, maybe you might have felt guilty, leaving him behind to fade into nothingness. Maybe it was easier if it was his decision to leave."

Ronan shook his head vehemently once the implications of what the doctor was saying sunk in. "No," he said. "No, no, no." He couldn't help but bark out a harsh laugh. "That wasn't it  _at all_."

"That doesn't even make any sense. Why would I be so upset, then? If I had just maniacally orchestrated this whole thing? I'd be glad he was gone. But I'm not. Obviously."

"You told me you weren't upset," the doctor replied patiently.

"What?"

"When I asked you if you missed your friend," he said, "you told me you didn't."

"That's not what I said." Ronan didn't appreciate his tone.

"You said you didn't need him, that you had real friends. You seemed quite flippant."

"Yeah, I didn't  _need_  him. But the thing is...I never did. Your whole stupid theory about me creating him out of thin air and then not knowing what to do once I didn't need him anymore is bullshit. I told you. I didn't need or even want an imaginary friend. It just happened. But...I cared about him. He was my first friend, my only friend, for a long time. Making new friends didn't change how I felt about him. Just because I didn't  _need_  him doesn't mean I didn't want him around, that I don't miss him."

"So you do miss him," the doctor said.

" _Obviously_ ," Ronan practically growled. "Isn't that why I'm here?"

"You're here because you've been exhibiting self destructive behavior and signs of depression. As far as what triggered that, you have to tell me."

"You're the one who brought this all up in the first place," Ronan reminded him.

"Your mother mentioned the fact that you'd had a somewhat...tumultuous relationship with what seemed to be an imaginary friend, and that you'd told her he was gone. Of course, one could draw the conclusion that this is the reason you've been acting out, that you feel hurt, confused, and are having a hard time coping with the loss. But, I'd rather hear that from you before I give any credit to that theory."

"You didn't have any problem saying all that shit about me getting rid of Adam on purpose," Ronan said, still chafed by the accusation. "You don't make any sense. First you tell me you believe me, then you tell me you think I've just made the whole thing up. Even made up him leaving me. That's crazy."

"It was just a theory," the doctor shrugged easily, as if Ronan's contempt didn't faze him. "I did say you were welcome to correct me if I was wrong. You have a very unique situation here, Ronan. Like you said, your relationship with this person wasn't quite the same as the common 'imaginary friend' relationship. I understand that now. And I do believe you. I believe everything you've told me. Whether or not your friend was real, by most standards, is irrelevant. Real is an objective term, in this case. He was real to you. I think that's all that matters."

Then he said, "Adam."

Ronan looked up at him sharply, his heart dipping in his chest.

"Is that his name?"

"How," Ronan said, "did you know that?"

"You called him Adam, just now."

"I did?" Ronan strained to remember.

"You did."

"Oh."

Ronan supposed it must have just slipped out. He had made a point not to say it, he hadn't said it since that night. He didn't respond when Gansey or Noah mentioned it, leaving them to pick up on the fact that he didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to say it. Didn't want to feel what feelings that name brought on. Even now, hearing the doctor saying it, swirled a storm inside his stomach. He felt nauseous.

"I like that name," the doctor said. Ronan shrugged.

"Is that why you've been having such a hard time lately?" he asked. "Because you miss Adam?"

Ronan shook his head. He felt like globs of wet cement were stuck in his throat. "Listen—this is going to sound crazy, but I just...don't want to hear his name."

"That doesn't sound crazy, Ronan."

"And," Ronan said, "I don't want to talk about this."

He was going to leave it at that, but after he'd already confessed so much, what was one more thing?

"I don't like thinking about it or talking about it," Ronan said quietly. "It hurts too much."

"I can understand that," the doctor said. "I just wanted to know if that was the only reason you've been so unhappy, or if there was something else going on."

Ronan shook his head again, embarrassment curdling inside him. Nope. Just this.

"Why did your friend leave, then?" the doctor asked. "That's something I'm still not sure I understand."

"I told you," Ronan said.

"You said it was personal," the doctor reminded him. "And you mentioned your friend thought you'd be safer if he left. What does that mean, exactly?"

Ronan sighed. "I can't talk about that. It's not...mine to tell."

"I gathered as much," the doctor nodded. "I can't help but feel like you want to tell, though."

Ronan shrugged. He did want to tell someone about what had been happening to Adam. He didn't know why. It wasn't like there was anything anyone could do about it. And that ate him up inside. But keeping it all to himself was driving him insane. He just wanted someone to  _know_.

"It's not as if your friend will ever know you've said anything, right?" the doctor reminded him, which earned him a deadly glare from Ronan. "And you know anything you tell me is strictly confidential. Unless you tell me you're planning to hurt yourself or hurt someone else. I'm guessing that doesn't fall into either of those categories."

If he was going to betray Adam's confidence to anyone, this guy was probably the best person for the job. Ronan looked at his feet when he spoke.

"His dad was—" he stopped abruptly, not realizing the words would be so hard to get out. "You know, hurting him, or whatever."

"Hurting him," the doctor said. "How?"

Ronan felt awkward and regretted saying anything. "You know," he sighed impatiently. "Hitting him."

"I see," he said. "He told you this?"

Ronan shook his head. God, he was really going to think he was crazy now.

"I was sort of," Ronan said, "an involuntary witness to it."

"Explain," the doctor said. "If you don't mind."

Ronan tried his best to explain what had happened that day in class. The doctor listened without interruption, gazing at Ronan with a troubled look on his face.

When Ronan was finished, there was silence for what felt like a long time.

Finally, he said, "What about you, Ronan?"

"What about me?"

"What's your relationship like with  _your_  father?"

"What?" Ronan was taken aback by the question. "Fine. I mean—what does that have to do with anything?"

"Process of elimination," he said.

"What does that mean?"

"Maybe nothing," the doctor replied vaguely.

Ronan narrowed his eyes.

"Just wondering if you and your friend might have had that in common."

"What? No!" Ronan was shocked. His dad could be strict sometimes, and he was always _intense_ , but he'd never…

Ronan remembered that day, feeling those bone-rattling blows rain down on him. That was beyond anything Ronan could comprehend.. Adam's father was a monster.

"My dad's not like that," Ronan said.

The doctor nodded, seeming to accept this information. Another stretch of silence passed.

"Ronan," he said eventually. "I've got to say, you've stumped me with this. I could make a plethora of arguments here, disassociative behavior, personality disorder, an over-active imagination...but...frankly, I'd like to hear what you think."

"What do you mean?"

"I've given you a couple of my theories," the doctor said. "Don't you have any yourself?"

Ronan sighed. "Well, the way I've always thought about it…" he paused, shaking his head. "It's hard to explain."

"Try," the doctor said.

"I guess like, I know he isn't...or wasn't... _real_ ," Ronan said. "Like, I mean, when I was younger, I did. I didn't really think about how weird it was...the whole thing...it was just...normal to me. I don't know. But after awhile, when I did think about it, I kind of figured there wasn't really, you know...some kid out there in the world who I was talking to in my head. I figured, you know, that he lived in my head. But—" Ronan paused, knowing he wasn't making much sense.

"Go on," the doctor encouraged.

"I guess," Ronan said, "I just thought of it as if the part of my brain that he existed in was like, its own separate reality. I know that sounds crazy and probably doesn't even make sense, but, that's how I made sense of it. It was like, that part of my brain, whatever it was, was his territory. He controlled it. It was his world. So it was real...sort of. But not really. I don't know. I don't know. Sometimes I felt like he was real and sometimes I didn't, I guess. Whatever. I'm not making sense."

"You've explained yourself quite well," the doctor assured him. "I think I understand what you're saying."

"And now it's like," Ronan went on, "I just don't have access to that part of my brain anymore. Like it's just been cut off."

"Maybe you could get it back," the doctor said, which surprised Ronan.

"I don't think that's possible," said Ronan.

"Worth a shot," the doctor replied.

"Aren't you supposed to tell me to, you know, move on? Forget about it? That it wasn't healthy and this is a good thing that it's gone?"

"Oh, I don't know," the doctor said, "I'd say where you're at now isn't very healthy. And you weren't getting into fights and drinking half your weight in alcohol when you had this friend in your life, were you? Maybe he was good for you."

Ronan shook his head. "You're a weird doctor."

The doctor smiled. "You're a weird kid."

Ronan scoffed in disbelief, a corner of his mouth turning up.

"Nothing wrong with that." The doctor shrugged, then turned his wrist and lowered his gaze to the watch that rested on it.

"Ah," he said. "Looks like we're about out of time."

Ronan felt an odd tug of disappointment. "Okay," he said.

"But we'll see each other in a few days," he said, "And we can pick up where we left off. I'm looking forward to it."

"Me too," Ronan said before he could think better of it.

The doctor smiled and clapped him on the shoulder as he let him out the door.

Ronan felt lighter than he had in a long time, it was nice to feel hopeful about something for a change, to have something to look forward to.

* * *

 

Ronan was in unfamiliar good spirits when his door creaked opened and Matthew's blond curls appeared through the gap.

"Can I come in?"

"Yes," Ronan told his little brother with a sideways smile. "What's up?"

"Mom and Dad are fighting."

"What?" Ronan sat up in bed. "Why?"

Matthew chewed on his bottom lip.

"Matthew," Ronan said authoritatively.

"They're in dad's study. The door was shut, but they were being pretty loud. I only heard parts of it, though."

"What were they fighting about?"

"Declan was in there, too."

"Matthew," Ronan said again. "Focus. Tell me what's going on."

"Dad was telling mom he didn't want you seeing a doctor anymore. That you were fine. He said mom was overreacting."

Ronan's pulse quickened. "What was mom saying?"

"She was telling him about...you know...who…" Matthew knew well of Ronan's aversion to the A word. "About how it wasn't normal, what had happened, that you needed to talk to someone about it. And dad said that you just had a vivid imagination, that it was a sign of intelligence. And then mom told him drinking away your problems at fifteen wasn't a sign of anything good. And dad said you were just being like any other teenage boy, that it wasn't a big deal. And then Declan said, 'I wasn't like that at his age.' Dad ignored him."

Ronan snorted at that.

"After that they started being quieter," Matthew went on, "And then I came up here."

Ronan slumped back down on his bed and sighed. "Jesus."

"Are you not going to go to the doctor anymore?" Matthew asked him, crawling up into bed beside him.

"I guess not," Ronan said. Weeks ago, this fate would have been a blessing. Now Ronan sort of felt like crying. Or hitting something. Hitting something sounded more fun.

"Well," Matthew said, snuggling up to his side, "you've been a lot. Maybe you're better by now."

"Yeah," Ronan let out a hard breath, slipping an arm around Matthew. "Maybe."

* * *

 

Even with his eyes closed, Ronan knew whose weight it was sliding down beside him onto the pavement.

"Thought I might find you here," Gansey said with a biting air of sarcasm, almost enough to make Ronan's lips twitch into what could objectively be considered a smile.

"Step into my office," Ronan slurred, throwing his hand out to gesture at the parking lot that stretched out around them.

"Are you done?" Gansey asked conversationally, nodding to the half-empty bottle in Ronan's hand.

"Yeah," Ronan sighed, handing the bottle over to him. He let out an unexpected, inappropriate laugh. "I'm done."

"Where's Noah?" he asked, just to fill the air with something. Something that didn't have to do with anything.

"At home," Gansey answered. Monmouth, is what he meant. That was their home. Gansey and Noah's. He tried to think of it as  _his_   _home_ , since it was going to be his place of residence, effective immediately. He already missed the Barns. But he wasn't going back there.

"How's Matthew?" Gansey asked.

"He's alright," Ronan sighed. "I don't know why he was acting like I'm moving to the South Pole. I told him I'd still see him every day."

"He's welcome to stay with us," Gansey said, as if Ronan was included in that  _us_ , like he had already been living with them for ages.

Ronan shook his head. "If there's one fucking thing Declan isn't worthless for, it's taking care of Matthew. And once he leaves, I think he'll like staying in the dorms. Lots of people around, stuff always going on, he's into that weird shit."

Gansey stepped around the words as if each one were a landmine, "And...how is Declan?"

Ronan set his lips into a thin line. "Don't know. Don't care."

"Ronan," Gansey said.

"What?"

"He's your brother."

"Not anymore," Ronan scoffed.

_"It's been months," Declan had said , the last day he'd spoken to him. "She's barely gotten out of bed...I mean, Jesus, yesterday I even had to clean the sheets because she—"_

_"So what?" Ronan said. "She's grieving. She lost her husband."_

_"Yeah," Declan said, "and we lost our dad."_

_"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"_

_"Grieving is normal. What she's doing is not."_

_"She'll snap out of it," Ronan shrugged. "Until then, we just take care of her."_

_"We're her kids," Declan said. "She's supposed to be taking care of us."_

_"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Ronan spat back at him. "You're heartless."_

_"I'm trying to do what's best for everyone," Declan hissed. "I'm not going to be around come Fall, and I have to think of you and Matthew—"_

_"I'll take care of mom and Matthew," Ronan told him. "If you want to fuck off and wash your hands of us, go for it. We'll be just fine without you."_

_"You know that's not what this is about," Declan shot him a wounded look. "You think I want to do this? God, Ronan. It's not easy just having all this responsibility dumped on me at once—"_

_"No one asked you to do anything!" Ronan felt like he was going to lose control and hit something, hit Declan, probably. "Especially this. I...I'm not gonna let you do this."_

_Declan sighed. "It's already done, Ronan."_

_Ronan went very still. "What?"_

" _While you were off on your last three-day bender, I had it all set up."_

" _Jesus fucking Christ," Ronan breathed out. A flurry of emotions sickled into him at once. Disbelief. Anger. Fear. Guilt. "How did you even—"_

" _She went willingly, Ronan," Declan said. "Mom knew she needed help."_

_Ronan gaped at him, unable to formulate a response._

" _I'll text you the information, visiting hours and everything. I was thinking we could make trips out there together. The three of us—"_

" _Listen to yourself," Ronan said. "You're just talking about this like—" Ronan broke off, shaking his head. This couldn't be real. Ronan's vision went red. He clenched his fists. He was shaking._

_Declan eyed him, unimpressed. "Throw a temper tantrum if you want to. Self-destruct if you want to. But keep it away from Matthew."_

" _What the fuck?" Ronan was barely holding it together. "You can't keep me from him."_

" _I'm not," Declan said. "As long as you're sober and of a sound mind, you can see Matthew all you want. But he doesn't need to be around you when you're like...this."_

" _Of a sound mind," Ronan repeated mockingly. In that moment he'd never hated Declan more, because he was right. "Fuck you, Declan. Just. Fuck you."_

_Declan shook his head. "Whatever. Are we done here?"_

" _Oh, yeah, we're fucking done here." Ronan scoffed bitterly. "You and me, we're done. For good."_

_Declan looked away, said nothing._

" _I'm leaving," Ronan told him. "I can't stay here. I can't fucking be around you. You make me sick."_

" _Where are you going to go?" Declan asked, still looking away from him._

" _Like you care," Ronan scoffed. And then, "I'll stay with Gansey."_

" _Fine," Declan said eventually, but Ronan was already gone._

Ronan's eyes had fallen closed, his head dropped onto Gansey's shoulder.

"I really am done," Ronan gestured to the bottle Gansey now held. "I mean, like, done."

"That's good," Gansey brought his arm around Ronan's shoulders, squeezing him. "Proud of you."

Ronan scoffed. "Whatever."

They sat there for a long time in comfortable, intimate silence.

"Gansey?" Ronan said at last.

"Yeah," said Gansey.

"I feel like...I'm never gonna feel okay again." Ronan raised his head, looked heavenward. "I think I'm gonna be fucked up forever."

Gansey nodded slowly. "Okay."

"Okay?" Ronan asked.

Gansey nodded again.

"No 'don't say things like that, Ronan'? No extreme paternal frowning? No lecture?"

"You want a lecture?" Gansey's mouth tilted upward. "I've got one behind a glass box back home that I can break open in case of an emergency."

"Fuck off," Ronan said, fondly. And then, "I'm serious."

"I know," Gansey said. "I just...know that there's nothing I can say, really, to make you feel any better. Maybe it will get better in time and maybe it won't. But, I'm here. And I always will be. No matter how fucked up you are. I'll take you any way you come."

"I...thanks," was all Ronan could manage. He wasn't drunk enough to tell Gansey he loved him, so he opted for a quick nudge to his shoulder instead. Same thing.

"Kinda wish I could talk to Adam right now," Ronan said, because while he wasn't on the level of tear-filled declarations, he was still relatively on the opposite side of sober.

Gansey raised his eyebrows. "There's a name I haven't heard in a long time."

Ronan shrugged. "That makes two of us."

"Has he…" Gansey started, "I mean...did you ever…?"

Ronan shook his head. Gansey nodded again.

"He just always knew what to say," Ronan said.

"What do you think he'd say, if he were here now?"

"I don't know," Ronan said. "Anyway, it doesn't matter."

"Sorry I can't be Adam," Gansey teased, but Ronan shook his head. Completely serious.

"I don't want you to be him. I mean, I...you…just because you're not...I mean you  _are_ , " Ronan swallowed, shook his head again, looked at Gansey. "You're enough."

Gansey smiled and slid his hand into Ronan's. It didn't really fix or change anything. But it was nice. It felt good. Sitting there, half-drunk, in an empty parking lot, hand-in-hand with Gansey. It wasn't quite like home, but it felt just about as close as he was ever going to get again.

* * *

 

Ronan was laying on his stomach, his head turned to the side, eyes closed. The needle dragged across his skin, humming and buzzing and scratching away. It had become a familiar, almost ignorable sensation after the first hour had passed. His skin was a little raw and tingly, but nothing he couldn't handle.

He was honestly a little disappointed it didn't hurt more. Almost made it seem less important.

It was the start of summer and Ronan was seventeen and he only had one fucking year of school left and he'd managed not to get kicked out yet and so he felt like that was something to celebrate.

He couldn't wait to see the look on Declan's face.

The needle dug in at a sensitive spot between his shoulder blades and a sharp, hot, stinging pain momentarily overtook him. He smirked. That was more like it.

"What the fuck," he heard an unfamiliar voice say, "are you  _doing_?"

"Huh?" Ronan lifted his head slightly, the woman tattooing him paused, lifting the needle and looked at him questioningly.

"You say something?" Ronan asked.

She shook her head. "Why? You need a break?"

Ronan shook his head and put his head back down. He let out a shaky breath. He felt...off kilter.

When the needle dug back in, it was a shock, and he winced.

"Jesus!" the voice hissed, "Ronan, is that you? What the hell is happening?"

All at once, realization smacked into Ronan like a gunshot to the face. The voice he was hearing. It was in his head.

 _In his head_.

It was different than he remembered. Deeper. Older. Stranger. But it was…

 _...Adam?_  he whispered inside his head. His heart was hammering against his ribcage.

"Are you okay?" The voice...Adam,  _God, shit_ , Adam? was full of worried concern. The needle hit another sensitive spot. "What _is_ that? What's going on?"

 _I'm okay_ , Ronan said, because he didn't know what else to say.  _I'm... getting a tattoo._

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Adam said, relief clear in his voice. Then, annoyance. "How much longer do I have to sit through this?"

 _You...can feel it?_  Ronan could scarcely feel anything right now, besides pure unadulterated bewilderment.

"Yeah, I—" Adam groaned in pain. "God damn it, are you getting it done on your  _bones_?"

Ronan was still at a complete loss.  _What's happening? I mean...how is this happening?_

"I don't know," Adam replied, sounding just as lost as Ronan felt, for a moment.

"Okay," he said a moment later. "Seriously. How much longer?"

_I...I've still got a couple hours, I think._

And then, _I'm...sorry?_

"It's fine," Adam sighed. "I took one of my mom's muscle relaxers about 20 minutes ago, I thought I was having back spasms or something. Jesus. It's starting to kick in, I'll be out for hours." Adam yawned a little around the last words, his voice sounding farther away.

 _I, uh, okay,_ Ronan said, still dizzy with disbelief.

"Just had to make sure you weren't being tortured medievally," Adam mumbled sleepily. "A tattoo." He laughed. "Because, of course."

Ronan said nothing more, he could feel the blip of Adam's presence slipping away from him again, until it was out of reach. But when he did reach out...well...he  _could_. The walls were...gone. Was this a new development? He hadn't tried to reach for Adam in ages. He'd given up on that two years ago. He swallowed thickly, his heart still pounding, as it had been this whole time.

"Sure you don't need a break?" the tattoo artist woman asked him again. "You keep kinda tensing up."

"No, I don't," Ronan forced himself to relax. "Sorry."

"Whatev," she chirped indifferently. "Just holler if you do."

Ronan grumbled noncommittally in response. The needle dug back in. He winced, hoping Adam was too unconscious to feel it. He tried to focus on that, the pain, the steady scratch of ink being inserted into his skin, and nothing else. Not about what the fuck had just happened. Not about what he was going to do when he got out of here, not about Adam. Not about anything. Just, the pain. The pain was real. Everything else was currently up for debate.

* * *

 

Ronan was laying on his stomach again, this time in his own bed, back at Monmouth. Noah had complained boisterously through the door about not getting to see the finished product that now permanently adorned a good portion of his back, but Ronan had complained of a headache and being sore and just wanting to sleep it off.

Feeling crazed and ridiculous in the dark of his room, he called out to Adam in his head.

Nothing.

He supposed he could still be asleep. Or he had just made the whole thing up. A pain-induced fever dream. He wasn't sure which one of those he wanted to be true. After all this time...he didn't understand why this was happening, or how he felt about it, or anything at all.

"So," Ronan was jolted into awareness at exactly 3:04 AM. "How's it look?"

Ronan blinked, his heart immediately kicking into double time.  _A-Adam? Is that you?_

"Who else would it be?" Adam's voice was darkly amused. "You replace me with a new model while I was gone?"

He felt nervous. Uncharacteristically shy. I mean, Jesus, it was just Adam.

 _Just Adam_. God. Fuck. Shit. Hell.

 _Fuck you_ , he said, which he'd wanted to say to Adam for a very long time. He didn't know if he'd meant to say it with malice or mirth. It came out as an odd mixture of both.

"Grumpy," Adam noted, unfazed. "Did I wake you? When I reached out you felt...there. So I figured…"

 _Why are you doing this?_ Ronan asked.

"Doing...what?"

 _Talking to me, like nothing fucking ever happened._  Ronan said. _Talking to me, like, at all._

"I...don't know," Adam said, like the thought hadn't occurred to him until this very moment. "I don't know."

"Do you...want me to go?" Adam sounded sheepish now, all traces of dry amusement or sarcasm gone from his strange, different voice that Ronan still wasn't used to.

 _No_ , Ronan said, his heart answering for him before his mind could.

Adam's relief was palpable. Ronan devoured it hungrily. He'd forgotten what it felt like, being this close to Adam. Emotions and feelings and sensations tangled up in each other. Only seconds of having it back and he couldn't understand how he'd ever lived without it.

"What is the tattoo of?" Adam asked him.

 _It's...hard to explain,_ Ronan said.  _You'd just have to see it._

"I can't believe I had to go through all that and don't even have anything to show for it," Adam mused.

Ronan had to point out the obvious.  _I mean, no one asked you to show up._

"Well, I didn't ask for it, either!" Adam shot back. "I don't know what happened."

 _You didn't do anything?_ Ronan asked, confused.  _I mean, you didn't take down the walls on purpose?_

"The walls?" Adam asked.

Ronan's cheeks flushed.  _The thing blocking our connection. Or whatever._

"Oh," Adam said. "No, I didn't do anything. Or at least, I wasn't trying to."

 _Oh_ , said Ronan.

"What?"

 _I just thought…_  Ronan sighed. It was completely embarrassing to be disappointed. To think that Adam had actually wanted to talk to him. And after all this time, why did he even still care? He didn't. _He didn't._

_Nevermind. I'm sure you'll have it up and running again in no time._

"Yeah," Adam said slowly, "that's not likely."

_Why not?_

"I've got no idea how I did all that in the first place," Adam said. "I was just trying anything I found that looked like it might work. I don't even remember which spell it was that ending up working." He laughed humorlessly. "Anyway, I had to get rid of all that shit after I did it. Couldn't risk my parents finding it. So...yeah. I don't know. I don't know how this happened and I don't know how to fix it."

_So what are we going to do, then?_

_We._ God, it was weird to say that.

"I guess," Adam said, "we're just going to have to...adjust to this again. Live with it."

 _Bummer_ , Ronan murmured sarcastically.

"So, you're mad." Adam said.

 _I don't really care_ , Ronan said.

"Since when do you lie?" Adam wanted to know. "I know you're mad. I can feel it, genius."

It wasn't a lie. Or, it didn't used to be. He  _hadn't_  cared. In so long. But nothing made sense right now. Not that anything had ever made much sense, but this was too much. Adam was here and it was all he'd wanted and he'd missed him so much but he was still so fucking angry at him. He didn't want him anymore and he did. And now he was here and there was nothing he could do about it. He didn't know _what_  he wanted to do about it.

"Look,I guess I could try to find that spell again but it took me forever last time...I don't even remember where...I just found it by chance. I didn't know what the hell I was doing. I don't even know if it would work again." Adam was babbling.

 _I'm not mad because you're here,_ Ronan stopped him. _I'm mad because you left._

There it was. All he'd ever needed to say to the one person he needed to say it to. Not that it even mattered anymore. But there it was.

"Oh," Adam said. "Still?"

Ronan scoffed.  _You're surprised?_

"Kind of," Adam said. "I mean, I knew you were mad at the time, but, I guess I thought once you'd calmed down you'd see things from my perspective and you'd...I don't know...get it."

It all just came pouring out.  _Yeah,_ Ronan said _, I totally get you abandoning me without any warning on my birthday now. That was a real swell thing you did, Adam. It wasn't traumatizing at all._

Adam said, "it was your birthday?"

 _The night before,_ Ronan amended.  _It's always a nice reminder, though. Every year._

He felt Adam's confusion, hurt, guilt seep into him.  _Good_ , he thought.

"I...didn't realize," Adam said, "I wasn't really thinking about anything back then except what I was trying to, you know, do. I didn't do that on purpose, if that's what you think."

 _Obviously not_ , Ronan said.  _It still fucking sucked._

"I'm sorry," Adam said.

_Are you?_

"For the way I went about it, yeah." Adam said. "I should have handled it better. But, I don't know. I was just so freaked out and...I guess I went a little crazy."

 _But you're not sorry for leaving_ , Ronan said.

"No," Adam told him quite bluntly. "I'm not."

 _Nice,_ Ronan said.

Ronan could feel Adam's frustration. He did nothing to assuage it.

"I'm not getting into this argument with you again," Adam told him. "I can't—I don't...I don't want to fight with you. You know why I did what I did. You know it, Ronan." Adam's voice went tight, and hearing him say his name, like that, leveled something inside Ronan. All at once, he felt extremely childish. Did it really matter, that Adam had left? Or did it only matter that he was here now? Life, as he'd come to find out, was a short thing. And maybe it was stupid to waste anymore time being uselessly angry when he could be doing other things. Like, this.

 _Adam_ , he said, which meant many things, some for which he didn't even have other words.  _I...don't want to fight with you, either._

For a moment, they remained in silence, simply getting reacquainted with the feeling of each other.

Then Adam said, "Okay."

Ronan said nothing. Adam cleared his throat around the silence.

"So," he said, "How have you been? Catch me up on what I've missed."

Ronan made a low hissing sound between his teeth.  _I mean...you really wanna know?_

"Yes," Adam said. "Of course. Ronan, you know I never stopped…"

_Never stopped...what?_

"Nothing," Adam said. "Go on. Tell me."

 _Well,_ Ronan began with a sigh,  _I don't live at home anymore. I'm...staying with Gansey and Noah. We've got a place. Well, it's Gansey's place but...we're all here._

"Oh," Adam said, "That's...cool."

 _It wasn't...exactly by choice_ , Ronan answered Adam's unspoken question.

"Parental problems?" Adam guessed.

 _Declan problems_ , Ronan said.  _My older brother._

"I remember," Adam said.

 _He had my mom put in a home last year._ Ronan explained. _He did it without my knowledge or consent. I didn't want to...I mean...I could have...whatever. It's done. Maybe it was for the best but...he's a fucking asshole. So. Yeah. We're not talking. And, I left. I just...couldn't stay in that house. Anymore._

"I...wow, that's…" Adam sounded baffled. "A home? Like...a psychiatric facility?"

_Yeah, a big fancy one for rich people who can't be bothered to be embarrassed by their mentally ill family members._

"I didn't even know your mom was...ill." Adam said. "You never mentioned it."

 _She...wasn't_ , Ronan said.  _She kind of had a breakdown when my dad died._

" _What_?" Adam clearly wasn't expecting that. "Fuck. How?"

 _Killed_ , Ronan replied coolly.  _There was an investigation. Pretty sure it's still ongoing but_... _who knows. He was...into some shady shit, business-wise, you know._

"Jesus," Adam said. "That's...horrible. Ronan."

Sensing Adam's unease, Ronan said,  _just tell me how sorry you are for my loss and we can move on to the next subject._

"You know," Adam said, "I always thought that phrase was kind of bullshit."

Ronan turned his head, smiled into his pillow.

"I mean, I know people mean well when they say it," Adam went on, "But it just sounds so generic and impersonal."

 _After the hundredth time I'd heard it at the funeral,_ Ronan told him conspiratorially, _I had to stop myself from answering back with, Why are you sorry? Did you kill him?_

Adam chuckled. "I'm kind of surprised you didn't."

 _It was a struggle_ , Ronan said,  _I won't lie._

"We should come up with a new death-slogan," Adam said. "Something modern, for the new age."

' _This is awkward and I don't want to be here, I'm not sorry. Sucks about insert dead person's name here, though.'_ Ronan suggested.

"And then you fist bump them and walk away," Adam said.

Ronan laughed.  _Perfect_.

 _So_ , he said.  _Tell me what's been going on with you._

Adam's mood noticeably darkened. "There's nothing to tell, really."

 _Really_ , Ronan repeated.

"Just the same old shit," he felt Adam shrug.

 _So, like…_ , Ronan knew he shouldn't press his luck, but he just couldn't help himself.  _Your dad—_

"Let's not." Adam cut him off immediately. "Let's just...not. Go there. Please."

 _Fine_ , Ronan agreed unpleasantly.

"I  _am_  sorry," Adam said, "that I wasn't there for you. When all that was going on. I should have been."

Ronan wriggled uncomfortably in bed. It was too much. It was all he'd ever wanted to hear.

 _It's not like you knew any of this was going to happen_ , he said.  _Anyway, it's fine. I mean...don't feel bad. Don't worry about it._

"Okay," Adam said. "But, I know you and your dad were close. And this stuff when your mom and your brother. I mean. If you ever need or want to talk about it. Well. I'm here."

 _How long you planning on sticking around?_ Ronan teased.

"Until you find a way to get rid of me, I guess."

 _That's your area of expertise, not mine_ , Ronan reminded him.

"Ronan," Adam said. It was like he could feel him.. _.pouting_? Jesus.

 _Just had to get that out of my system,_ Ronan said.

"Yeah, alright." Adam said. "No further comment. I told you, we're not fighting."

 _Oh, we're_ _ **not**_ _fighting?_  Ronan asked, feeling a little delirious.  _Shit, I thought we were._

"Shut up," Adam said. "God, you haven't changed a bit." There was a soft, intimate affection to his tone.

 _I'm glad this happened_ , Ronan admitted. _I missed you._

"I can guarantee," Adam said with a rueful laugh, "that I missed you more."

Ronan curled into the new, and yet not, feel of Adam's presence like a cat. It felt good. It felt so good. Adam was  _here_. It was hard to believe it was real. Hefelt like a child again. Content and without worry, like nothing could hurt him.

* * *

 

Ronan felt Adam tugging at his mind, unabashedly desperate and frenzied.

"What's wrong?" Ronan asked, "Don't tell me you're nervous."

"I think I'm going to just elaborately fake my death. Want to help?"

"God, you baby," Ronan hummed. "You're going to be fine."

"This is stupid," Adam sighed. "Why did I do this? It's not even going to make that much of a difference."

Adam was transferring to a new school for his senior year, finishing out his high school education at a private school he'd been saving up money to attend. He and his parents had moved into a new area and Adam hoped this would be better for him, college applications and all that. Adam was obsessed with that shit.

"Hell if I know," Ronan slung his tie around his neck. "Private school is shit."

"Poor little rich boy," Adam mocked.

"Eat me," Ronan gave up on the tie. "Seriously," he sent waves of reassuring feelings to Adam. "You'll be fine."

Gansey knocked on the door.

"Be out in a sec!" he called. He grabbed his bag and yanked open the door. Gansey was looking as combed and gelled and fresh-faced as ever.

"Was that Matthew?" he asked brightly.

Ronan cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

"Who were you just talking to?"

"Oh," Ronan said. "Um. Yeah."

The summer had come and gone quickly this year, somehow without Ronan's friends realizing his relapse back into Imagination Station and the picking up of an old invisible brain-dwelling companion. He didn't know why he hadn't told them. It wasn't like Adam was ever some big secret in the first place, but now, things just felt different.

He'd tell them, or maybe he wouldn't. It wasn't really a priority at the moment.

 _Think-to-talk_ , he reminded himself silently.  _You have the power. Use it._

Ronan didn't hear from Adam at all during the day, which he'd more or less expected. Adam was all in knots about his first day at his new school. Whenever he felt his presence lurking about at the recesses of his mind, he'd reach out to him. Just to let him know he was there. They talked a little bit during lunch, but Adam's mind was clearly elsewhere. He hoped Adam's day was going well. Wherever he was.

Ronan's day was not. It passed with an agonizing slowness of syllabi and rules and assignments and bullshit. And it only sunk into a lower level of Hell when Gansey stopped outside Nino's on their drive back home and fixed him with an apologetic smile.

"Hey," he said. "We're making a quick stop in here."

"Why?" Ronan asked.

"I have to meet with a new student about a debate thing. I told them they could meet me here after school."

"I'll come get you when you're done." Ronan shrugged. .

"You're not driving my car."

Ronan groaned. "Take me home first!"

"Oh, come on," Gansey said, "We're already here. It won't be long."

"I'll wait in the car."

"Then you won't get any food," Gansey tsked with a knowing smirk.

Ronan whined like a child, but got out of the car when Gansey did and skulked behind him into the restaurant.

Gansey led them to a table where a dark haired boy sat, and Ronan was wishing Noah didn't have his theatre bullshit after school and could have saved him from this undeserved torment.

He glanced only briefly at the boy as they sat, who was tan-skinned and light-eyed and disturbingly symmetrical about the face. He blinked owlishly at Ronan. There was something immediately annoying about him.

Ronan didn't bother returning his awkward hello-half-smile and simply went to work constructing a building out of salt shakers and silverware.

The second Gansey opened his mouth to speak, his cellphone went off. He fished it out of his pocket and winced at the screen. "I'm sorry," he said to the boy. "I have to take this. I will be right back." He shot a meaningful look toward Ronan as he made his exit.

Ronan felt Adam at the back of his mind, jittery and anxious.

 _So...how was the first day?_ He pretended to be intensely focused on his architectural pursuits, lest the boy across from him notice anything amiss. Not that he really cared.

"Fine," Adam's voice was clear and calm in his head. "Better than expected."

_Did you make student council president? Are you on the ballot for homecoming king? Did you get fresh with the head cheerleader in the janitor's closet? Don't hold out on me._

Adam laughed inside his head. "It's an all-boy's school, so, no. It wasn't the head cheerleader. It was the captain of the lacrosse team,  _obviously_."

Ronan's hand slipped on a butter knife and it went clattering loudly to the table top. His eyes flicked up, the boy across from him was smirking. He scowled at him and looked back down.

"How was  _your_ day?"Adam asked.

 _It was shit_ , Ronan said.  _It's still shit. I'm stuck babysitting Gansey's latest pet project, and I think he's silently judging my silverware cathedral._

"...What?" Adam asked, sounding strangely alarmed.

 _I'm just trying to build a respectable place of worship out of this spotty cutlery,_ Ronan said, _but my knife slash flying buttress fell, and he very plainly mocked me with his eyes._

Adam didn't say anything. Ronan had the feeling of eyes on him and glanced, again, upward, to find the boy sitting across from him staring at him with the strangest look of confusion and panic in his narrowed blue eyes.

" _What_?" Ronan eyed him disdainfully.

The boy cocked his head to the side, gaping at Ronan like he was something that couldn't exist. He parted his lips and said, almost too quiet to be heard, "...Ronan?"

That voice. _That voice._ He'd heard in his head enough times to know it anywhere. And now the anywhere it was coming from was out of this boy's mouth. Ronan blinked.

"Ronan," the boy said again, slowly, still looking as if he'd just been dumped on an alien planet.

Ronan looked at him. His dark hair. His blue eyes. The light spray of freckles that dusted his cheeks. The shape of his mouth. The slouch of his shoulders. It all just fucking came together. This...was Adam.

_This was Adam._

Ronan stood up wordlessly from the table. Adam stood up too. Ronan turned to leave, Adam grabbed his arm.

"Ronan? Ronan, wait—"

He spun back around to grab hold of the wrist, connected to the hand, that was reaching out toward him still. He jerked Adam forward, their noses practically touching so he could look him directly in eye as he said, as quietly and as calmly as he could manage, "stay the  _fuck_  away from me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for the amazing comments and feedback on this story <3333 it means the world to me and i hope you'll continue to stick around and see it to its end.


	3. I Forget Where We Were

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I'm sorry. I hope you all still care. Also thank you so much to everyone who has read, given kudos, commented on, made edits for, and talked to me on tumblr about this story. It means the world to me and I am just so, so appreciative.

  
_Oh, hey,_ _I wasn't listening_  
_I was stung by all of us  
_ _The blind leading out the bored_

 _Hello love, my invincible friend_  
_Hello love, the thistle and the burr_  
_Hello love, for you I have so many words_  
_But I, I forget where we were_

"[I Forget Where We Were](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TpeK3zvmx2c)" — Ben Howard

* * *

 

 

Adam stumbled backward.

He watched the boy's retreating figure in a surreal haze of panicked disbelief. That boy, with his dark bristly head, ice colored eyes, and savagely cut features, was  _Ronan_.

His heart was pounding. He had to be dreaming. Hallucinating. Something. Out of wild instinct, he reached for Ronan in his mind. He couldn't feel him.

Surely this was some kind of...mistake or misunderstanding.

That...person...might have the same name…

It was just...a coincidence. It had to be.

The fleeting arguments felt weak and wrong as soon as he could grasp for them, but the truth was too unreal to settle into. His mind just kept feeding him false logic.

He was still standing there, blinking at empty air as the boy — _Ronan_ — disappeared from his line of sight. He felt a hand on his shoulder. He jumped, twisting around to see the boy Ronan had come in with standing before him, a politely confused look on his face.

"Where's Ronan?" he asked.

Adam swallowed thickly. "Ronan," he repeated, his brain still swimming.

"The boy I came in with," he said, craning his neck to look outside the windows and frowning. "Did he leave?"

"I…" Adam said, his voice coming out in a strange warble, "yes."

"Did...something happen?"

Adam let out a hard breath. It didn't help to steady him. He looked away from the boy and said, "I don't know."

The boy blinked at him. "Did he at least say where he was going?"

"No," Adam answered mechanically.

"Did he say  _anything_?"

"He told me to stay the fuck away from him," Adam recited, knowing this was unhelpful. The boy eyed Adam suspiciously. Adam shrugged, "that's what he said."

"I don't doubt that," the boy said wearily. "But what  _happened_? I don't understand."

Adam didn't understand either. It made sense. And it didn't. Adam was...confused. Scared.

Ronan, it seemed, was angry. At him? He supposed so. Why? He wasn't entirely sure.

"You can go, if you want," Adam told the boy, who was still looking furtively out the windows, eyes darting back and forth across the landscape outside. "I mean, you should probably go after him."

"It's fine," the boy said, walking slowly back to the table where just moments ago, Adam had been sitting across from Ronan. He felt oddly wrong about it, like the space was haunted somehow.  _Unwelcome._ "Ronan can be a bit, ah, temperamental."

Adam had to quiet a snort. That was one way to put it. He sat across from the boy now, trying and failing not to look at the toppled rubble of what had been Ronan's silverware cathedral. He remembered the way his fist had curled around that knife, which now lay smudged with his fingerprints, and Adam had an unnerving urge to touch it. Feel the ghost of him on the steel of the blade.  _Ronan_.

"Sorry about all this," the boy smiled apologetically at Adam.

He extended his hand toward him. "Forgive me, I didn't even get your name."

He said this with an air of heavy contrition, as if he'd just confessed to something akin to murder.

"Adam," Adam responded without thinking, clasping the boy's hand with his. The boy, in turn, visibly reacted to that. His eyes went wide for a moment and his mouth turned down.

"Oh," he said, letting go of Adam's hand. "That makes sense, then."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Ronan. He's a bit sensitive about that name. He has—" the boy paused, reconsidered. "He used to know someone—ah, it doesn't matter. Anyway, it's nothing personal toward you. I assume you introduced yourself and he, well, you know." The boy shrugged. "As I said, temperamental."

Adam blinked at him. This cardboard cutout of everything a boy should be, sitting in front of him, smiling like his photo was being perpetually taken, his school uniform clinging to him in such an obnoxiously effortless way, as if had been designed specifically with his body in mind. A belated memory of Ronan using the words  _pet-project_  filtered through Adam's brain.

"Oh my God," Adam said, "you're  _Gansey_."

The boy's lips twitched. "Guilty as charged. If my reputation's preceding me, I hope it's good things you've heard."

This could not be happening. This had to be some kind of cruel joke. But it wasn't possible. He'd never told  _anyone_. No one could possibly have known to do this to him.

Somehow, unbelievably, this was real.

It should be a relief. Adam should have been celebrating.  _I'm not crazy after all._ But he only felt unease, dread, fear.

"I've heard," Adam spoke slowly, "a lot about you."

Gansey looked at him, questioningly. Adam said, "Gansey, it's me. I mean, I'm  _Adam_."

Gansey tilted his head to side, peering at him with a befuddled expression. "I'm sorry. Do I know you?"

"Well, he said he told you about me," Adam shrugged. "I don't know what's going on here. But Ronan always said you were good with stuff like this. Impossible things. So, I'm open to any ideas you might have."

"Impossible things," Gansey repeated dully, eyeing Adam like he was working out a puzzle in his mind.

"You're...Adam," Gansey said, and Adam could almost see the cogs spinning in his brain, sliding and clicking into place. "... _Ronan's_  Adam?"

Adam flushed at the title. He knew what Gansey meant, but the wording was uncomfortable, nonetheless.

"Yeah," Adam said, shrugging awkwardly. "I mean, I guess."

"I was under the impression you were imaginary," Gansey said, his tone suggesting that this was akin to being mistaken about his hair color.

"So was I," Adam said, "I mean. About Ronan."

Saying that name out loud still felt completely exposing and ridiculous.

Gansey narrowed his eyes in thought. "So, all this time you were here, existing, with Ronan in your head, thinking  _he_  was imaginary?"

"I mean I wasn't  _here_. I used to live a few hours away. I moved at the beginning of the year. Anyway," Adam shook his head, "that's not really what's important, I guess."

"But yes," Adam said, belatedly answering Gansey's question. "I...always just thought...I don't even know what I thought. Not this."

"Interesting," Gansey said. "I mean, this has been going on since you were a child, right?"

"Right," Adam confirmed.

"You've never had contact with Ronan in real life before?" Gansey asked. "I mean, outside of your head?"

"No," Adam said. And then, as the thought occurred to him, "you don't seem very...I mean...have you heard of something like this before?"

"I mean," Gansey said, "Of course I've read the odd claim here and there about mental connections between two people, usually siblings, twin-telepathy and all that." He grinned wryly at Adam. "I don't suppose you and Ronan could be long lost twins, do you?"

"We have different birthdays," Adam informed Gansey, realizing an embarrassing beat too late he'd been joking. Gansey chuckled while Adam writhed uncomfortably in his skin.

"But really, you never thought that could possibly be the case?" Gansey asked him, looking very interested to know his answer. "That you were experiencing a psychic connection, of sorts, with a real person?"

Adam shook his head. "I mean...maybe when I was a kid, yeah, but...I mean, I was a  _kid_. Kids believe in everything. And then...I got older."

"And...what?" Gansey prompted. "You just thought you had a particularly hard to get rid of imaginary friend?"

"More or less," Adam shrugged. "I don't know. I know it sounds crazy but I just...don't know...what I thought. Really. Ronan had been around since I was so young...I was just so used to him. As I got older, I realized that it wasn't normal. That there was something wrong with me. The things that resulted in researching 'voices in my head' weren't exactly encouraging. But I…" Adam swallowed thickly. "I guess I just didn't really care. I thought if I was crazy...whatever. I wanted Ronan around. Even if he wasn't real. He was, you know, a comfort to me."

Gansey's mouth melted into a strange, lopsided smile that made Adam's chest burn. The large part of Adam's brain that existed solely to protect him from any potential harm was sirening its enflamed disapproval.  _Said too much, said too much._

But he couldn't help himself. Gansey was disturbingly easy to talk to, or rather he was supernaturally good at making those around him feel at enough ease to spill their guts. Adam didn't like that. His thoughts, feelings, secrets; they were all he had. He didn't like to share. The only person who'd ever been privy to those things was Ronan and that was only because with the nature of Ronan living inside Adam's head, it was unavoidable.

 _But he doesn't live inside your head_ , Adam reminded himself.  _He never did. He's a real living, breathing person. Out here in the real world. A person who knows all your secrets. Every last goddamned one._

All at once Adam felt overwhelmingly ill.

Gansey was saying something, talking with his hands, still smiling. Adam was underwater. He had to get out of here. He had to leave. He couldn't be in this place. He couldn't do any of it. But it had already been done. He was here. And this was real. And his heart was racing and his head hurt and Ronan had told him to stay away from him and Ronan knew everything about him and Ronan was gone and—

"Adam?" Gansey's voice cut through the cacophony of chaos that Adam's brain was ringing with. "Adam, are you alright?"

"I...I have to go," Adam said. At least, that's what he'd meant to say. It might have come out in an ancient tongue, or an indiscernible mumble, but he felt himself stand up and stumble away.

The air outside was no comfort, thick and hot. He was choking. His chest hurt. His head hurt. He couldn't breathe. He tried to blink, to inhale, to steady himself. The sky and the ground were quivering, eager to switch places at any moment now. He was sick and scared and he wanted Ronan. It was such an easy, familiar impulse to reach for him. Ronan always helped, Ronan was always there when he needed him, Ronan would make him feel better. Any second now. Surely Ronan would feel this, feel him, and come to him. Adam forced himself to breathe in and wait.

He breathed out. 

No one came.

Except, they did.

"Adam."

He swung his head to the side and was momentarily startled out of his nauseating panic to behold a gorgeous 1973 Camaro that was sputtering precariously along beside him. Gansey was driving it. It was orange.

Gansey said, "let me drive you home."

Adam shook his head. "I have to go get my bike. I left it at the school." He wouldn't have let Gansey drive him home under any circumstances, but he was glad to at least have an excuse.

"That's a bit of a walk. And you're not well. I'll drive you to school."

"I'm fine," Adam answered immediately. He shook his head in a dismissing gesture, only to dizzy himself further and stumble.

"I'm going there, anyway," Gansey told him. "Noah'll be texting me soon to pick him up from his after school thing, I'm sure."

Adam scoffed at that. Noah. He'd forgotten. God. He was real too, because of course. He shook his head and kept walking.

"Adam," Gansey said in a voice that was definitely inappropriate to use on someone you'd just met. "Get in."

* * *

 

Gansey tried to fill the buzzing silence with inane questioning. "How did you get to Nino's, then? If you left your bike at school."

"I got a ride from someone," Adam explained. "I wasn't sure how long it'd take to bike it and I didn't want to keep anyone waiting on me."

Gansey's mouth seemed to be unable to decide whether to smile or frown at that. What resulted was a disturbing series of twitches before he continued, "who gave you a ride?"

"Some guy in my last period." Adam shrugged. "Tad?"

Adam wanted to make friends. Well, rather, he wanted to be well-liked among his peers. He thought he'd been doing an alright job for his first day, but the way Gansey gasped, "Oh God, no," with an affronted shake of his head told him different. He clenched his jaw, reminded of the kind of people he was dealing with here. Entitled rich brats who couldn't stay out of each other's business if their lives depended on it. Tad had seemed like an okay enough guy. Obnoxious and too talkative for Adam's liking, but he'd been perfectly happy to give a stranger a ride when he probably had better things to be doing.

Still, somehow Gansey's reaction made Adam rethink his assessment. If  _Gansey_  thought he was bad news, surely that meant something.

A moment later Adam remembered that he didn't  _know_  Gansey at all. And his opinion on someone shouldn't make a difference in his own whatsoever. It did, though.

Adam barely had time to register the fact they'd reached their destination before the car door adjacent to him wrenched open and a large oblong satchel was being tossed into the backseat over top of him. He blinked at the boy who'd done the wrenching and the tossing, the boy who was now crawling over his lap to wriggle himself into the now fully crammed vehicle.

"Hey," the boy said to him, and then to Gansey, "where's Ronan?"

"Brooding somewhere safely, we hope," Gansey replied. "You heard from him?"

"Negative," the boy shook his head. "He was supposed to pick me up. I was just about to text you to come to my rescue. Your Czerny senses must have been tingling."

So this was Noah. Adam stared at a slice of him through the rearview mirror. He looked almost eerily as Adam had imagined he would. Blond and boyish. A little unkempt. A friendly, open face. Cute, in an off-beat sort of way.

Gansey smiled without looking back at him. "They always are."

"Are you going to introduce me?" Noah jutted his chin toward Adam, who had nearly forgotten he wasn't supposed to be in the car anymore.

"No introductions are necessary," Gansey turned himself sideways, his gaze sliding over Adam before he settled it on Noah. "We're all old friends, here."

"Romantic as that sounds," Noah grinned, "an exchanging of names is sort of unavoidable."

"I'm being serious," Gansey said. "This is Adam."

"Adam," Noah repeated. A beat followed. Noah's entire face shifted upward in a way that was almost cartoonish. "Adam? You mean, like,  _Adam_ -Adam?  _Ronan's_  Adam?"

There it was again. That unwarranted title. Adam's stomach turned, remembering all the reasons why he very much needed to be elsewhere.

"They very same," Gansey said to Noah, whose eyebrows now nearly touched his hairline.

Noah's face opened up into a brilliant smile. He turned to Gansey. "I can't believe this. Where did you find him?"

Adam was a little amused and somehow not surprised that Noah seemed to be immediately reconciled with the fact that Adam was here existing in front of him. Ronan always had lots of messages for him from Noah over the years. He realized it was less about Noah giving a shit about him and more about him being supportive to Ronan, but he couldn't help but feel a warm prick of affection every time Ronan hastily ended a sentence with,  _Noah says hi by the way_.

That was before the break, though. After, Ronan didn't really mention his friends at all, if he could help it, let alone have any more messages from them. Ronan never explicitly came out and said he was keeping their untimely reunion a secret from them, but Adam wasn't stupid. If Ronan wanted his real life separate from the one he lived inside his head, that was his business. Adam wanted more or less the same.

Now that was impossible.  _Maybe not, if you'd fucking leave already,_  his brain reminded him unkindly. The storm inside Adam's chest turned itself over and wracked his insides anew. His brain was adamant.  _Get. Out. Of. Here._

"Thanks for the ride," he said to Gansey. "I owe you."

"You don't," Gansey said quietly.

Noah careened forward, almost making a reappearance into Adam's lap again. "You're leaving?" His head twisted at an owlish angle. "Don't you want to see Ronan?"

"I saw him," Adam replied, moving to exit the vehicle. Noah grabbed his arm. Adam flinched. An unexpected reflexive reaction. He jerked his arm roughly away, flustered and embarrassed. Noah slunk back into his seat.

"It's been quite a heavy past hour, for Adam and Ronan," Gansey said, watching the way Adam cupped his elbow, hugging the arm Noah had touched to his chest. "Ronan's in shock, I think." He made eye contact with Adam. "Can you try...I don't really know the proper term...calling him? With your mind, I mean?"

Adam's mouth twitched in spite of his mood. "We call it  _reaching_."

"Poetic," Noah grinned from the backseat.

"Right," Gansey said with a quick nod. "Well. Can you try to reach for him, then? Find out where he is? See if he's alright?"

"I don't think so," Adam said. "It doesn't really work like that. I mean, I can reach all I want. But he has to...um…you know...reach back." Adam swallowed. This was so odd to talk about. It was like talking about sex. Or something.

Gansey nodded again, like that made sense. "And, you don't think he will?"

"He didn't earlier," Adam confessed. "When I tried."

"He's probably just freaked out," Noah commented. "I mean,  _you_  seem pretty freaked out."

"No offense," he added softly when no one spoke.

"You could try again now," Gansey suggested.

"I…," Adam faltered. "I mean, I guess I could...try."

He'd silently talked to Ronan in public many times before, but it wasn't like anyone ever knew what he was doing. There was always an intangible element of privacy that he suddenly didn't have. He was surprised how exposed he felt. He closed his eyes, though that only made it worse. He could still feel Gansey and Noah's anticipating gazes on him. He reached out, tentatively, feeling absolutely ridiculous. He could feel Ronan's presence at the edge of his mind. It sizzled like a live wire. Hard waves of resistance pulsed from it. Still, Adam pushed, reached as far as he could. Ronan was there, he could feel him, but it was like he was behind glass. He didn't know what Ronan was doing to ward him off like this. It wasn't like when Ronan was sleeping, reaching out into empty space. It wasn't like when Adam had blocked off the connection, either. That had made it impossible to reach at all. This was a strange, hollowing sensation. He felt...unwanted. Which was not an unfamiliar sensation to Adam Parrish in the slightest. But Ronan had never made him feel that way before. Not ever.

Sheepishly, he retreated. He opened his eyes. They were wet. He blinked them dry.

"No luck, then?" Noah finally asked, quietly.

Adam shook his head. "It's not a big deal, I mean...it's—whatever."

"Hey," Gansey said. "Don't worry. I'll talk to him. We'll get it all sorted."

"Thanks, again. For the ride." Adam got out of the car. Gansey called after him repeatedly. He didn't turn around. He half expected Gansey to pursue him and was both relieved and disappointed when he didn't.

* * *

 

Adam didn't spend too much time feeling sad about it.

It was a useless, heavy emotion. It weighed him down, held him back. It was completely un-beneficial, sorrow. Even the word was, in itself, too much. Frivolous. Unnecessary. Adam Parrish simply did not have the time or energy for it.

He'd been so exhausted after that first day of school, he barely had time to be grateful he didn't have a shift that night, or homework, before he was tumbling into bed, already half asleep.

The deliria of exhaustion sedated Adam's anxieties as he curled into himself, his brain whirring down. Gansey was probably right. Ronan was just a little shell-shocked from running into each other so unexpectedly as they had. Who wouldn't be? Adam was, himself. He'd talk to Ronan tomorrow before school, smooth everything out, then they'd see each other at school, and they could talk more in person. It'd be a little weird at first, sure, but they'd get used to it. It had been weird having someone else in his head at first, after all, and he'd gotten used to that.

But Ronan was still shutting Adam out the next morning. It stung, but Adam wasn't entirely surprised.  _Don't be dramatic. He's just freaked out,_ Adam told himself.  _Ronan always reacts before he thinks. Once he calms himself down, we'll be able to talk about it._

At school, he'd caught up with Noah and Gansey in the hallway, who winced his way through telling Adam that Ronan had "expressed concerns" about Gansey and Noah's conversation with Adam the day before. Apparently Ronan was "deeply uncomfortable" with the idea of the two of them hanging around Adam. Or speaking to him at all. And Gansey and Noah were, of course, going to respect that.

It didn't make sense for that to hurt as much as it did. They were Ronan's friends, after all. Not his.

"We had a long talk about it," Gansey sighed. "Ultimately we came to the decision it's best for us to keep our distance. I'm sorry, Adam. You know, I really wish it wasn't like this." He sounded so genuinely remorseful Adam almost wanted to laugh.

Noah shook his head and rolled his eyes, but stayed silent.

"I—understand," Adam said. He didn't.

So that was the end of that. He still saw them around school, of course. He had one class with Noah, who always made sure to smile politely at him if they ever caught eyes, but still never said a word. He had two classes with Gansey and Ronan and three classes with Gansey, total. Neither Gansey nor Ronan ever so much as glanced in his direction.

He found more work easily, not a full two weeks after school had started. At least he had that to distract him. And his schoolwork. He stopped trying to reach Ronan in his head. After the first few days of being pushed away, he gave up. He knew Ronan didn't want to talk to him and he wasn't going to fucking beg.

It was hard to come to terms with on a logical level, really, more than anything else. Ronan not wanting him. Ronan had always wanted him. That was the whole point of him. It was why Adam had made him up in the first place, back when Ronan had still been a figment of Adam's imagination.

The Ronan in real life wanted nothing to do with him. But the Ronan in real life and the Ronan inside his head were the same person, were they not? And that person in his head had been a real life person all along, wanting him. Hadn't he?

The only thing that had changed —apart from the shocking mutual realization that the person they'd been sharing headspace with since they were children was, in fact, real— was now they had seen each other. They had a face and body to put to the voice.

So, Ronan didn't like the way Adam looked? It was a completely shallow and superficial reason to render someone worthless. From someone else, anyone else, Adam wouldn't have been surprised. Even dressed up in a nice, smart uniform that embodied wealth and privilege, Adam still looked...rough, off, wrong.

But Ronan didn't care about that sort of thing. At least, Adam had never pegged him for some sort of preppy good-breeding brand-name snob. If anything, he was the opposite. He was always making fun of those people.

So it wasn't because Adam simply reeked of lower class. It was more than that. It was personal. Ronan had taken one look at Adam and thought—what? Adam wished he knew. Though, he didn't care. It wasn't that his feelings were hurt. They were, but that was irrelevant, he'd long since decided to rid himself of all that. But it didn't make  _sense_  and that drove him crazy.

When they were much younger, maybe twelve or thirteen, Ronan had become briefly fixated on knowing what Adam looked like. He'd ask him constantly to describe himself, to which Adam would always reply there wasn't all that much to describe. In truth, Adam almost desperately wanted Ronan to be able to see him, just as he wanted to see Ronan, too. But he wasn't interested in describing himself. Partly because he didn't really know how. And partly because was afraid Ronan would lose interest in him if his description proved too boring for his tastes. He had considered making up fantastical features, exaggerating the number of eyes or appendages he had. Instead he just remained purposefully evasive, which drove Ronan up the wall, which Adam mildly delighted in.

Ronan eventually offered up that  _he_  had dark hair and blue eyes. He was tall for his age, he even measured himself to tell Adam precisely how tall he was.

"You're taller than me," Adam had told him. "But only by a little bit."

Ronan had been incredibly pleased by that information.

If Adam had been allowing himself to hurt, it would have been painful to remember what it was like, Ronan being pleased with him. How easy it was to make him happy, just by being around, just by being Adam.

Had Ronan expected him to be good looking? Was he disappointed? That didn't make sense either. Why would that have mattered? Then again, Ronan was. Good looking, that is. Not that Adam had seen him up close since that first day, but around school he was sort of hard to miss. Gansey was obviously handsome. Maybe it did matter. But Noah, though he wasn't bad to look at by any means, was just about as average as Adam was.

So what it was that Ronan had found so repulsive about him. His hair? Maybe his nose? It never really seemed like it fit in with the rest of his face. His hands? They were sort of too big for his bony wrists, they stuck out awkwardly. Maybe it was all of that, rolled up in a peculiar boy-shaped package of  _no, thanks_. He reminded himself that he wasn't wasting time worrying about that. He wasn't wasting time missing Ronan, either. It had been difficult to train himself to stop reaching for Ronan out of sheer habit, when someone at work said something stupid and he wanted to hear Ronan laugh about it, or when he was anxious or stressed or bored and wanted Ronan to distract him and put him at ease. Like he'd always done. It was a consistent kick to the stomach every time he slipped up and began babbling away, only to be met with deafening quiet. But he didn't miss him. He felt like the majority of his guts had been scraped out with a spoon and the hollowness burned inside him, but, what could he do about it? Nothing. And that was the thing. He wasn't wasting time being hurt over nothing that he could change.

When his father smacked him hard across the back of the head one night, he felt the strangest, sickest sense of anticipation. Surely Ronan would say something, then. He must have felt it. Even if it was just to tell Adam he really needed to figure out how to get rid of the connection again so he wouldn't have to deal with that anymore, it would be...something. But Ronan had said nothing.

Adam needed  _something_. There was too much nothing in his head these days. The silence was driving him mad.

* * *

 

In a surprising turn of events, Adam met a girl.

The first time he saw her, she didn't have any shoes on, she was halfway inside of a snack machine, and she was muttering angrily to herself in a language he assumed was a human one, though he didn't understand it.

When he approached her, in English, she growled at him to back off.

He sheepishly informed her he'd only come over to see if she needed any help. She aggressively informed him that she did not. He watched her struggle for a good five minutes before she violently freed herself, tumbling to the ground with an agonized cry.

"It's stuck," she huffed. Adam looked at the packaged snack cake that was suspended precariously on the tip of the curly metal hook in which the rest of the snacks were held in place. "I was trying to knock it loose."

Adam looked at her, then back to the machine. He hit the side of it which yielded no results aside from an agitated squawk of, "I already tried that!" from the barefoot girl. He made a fist and used the base of his palm to knock as hard as he could against the front of it where the thing was jammed. It fell to the bottom. Adam felt like a valiant knight, bending to retrieve it from the dispenser and presenting it to the barefoot girl.

She scrunched up her nose with disgust. "Now it's all smushed," she said. "Thanks for nothing."

He dug around in his jeans and considered that there might just be a God after all when he came up with a handful of lint and three quarters. He deposited them into the machine and bought another snack cake that released itself without any issues. The barefoot girl accepted this one with narrowed eyes.

"Thanks," she said warily.

Adam shrugged. "I was gonna buy one, anyway." He wasn't. He held up the mangled package she'd rejected. "You mind if I keep the damaged goods?"

That earned him a smile from her. "Knock yourself out," she said. He sat down next to her on the curb and they ate together in silence.

"I'm on my break," she said eventually. "And my feet needed one too."

Adam blinked at her.

"You were staring at my unsightly naked toes," she told Adam, wiggling said toes for good measure.

"Oh," he laughed. "No I...sorry. I wasn't trying to."

"Thanks again," she stood to toss the empty wrapper in a nearby trashcan. She turned to him and fixed her voice with biting sarcasm. "Kindly stranger."

Adam tipped an invisible cowboy hat to her and she giggled.

"I gotta get back to work," she said. He nodded.

"Well," she said, looking away from him as she spoke. "Are you coming in or what?"

She was certainly  _something_.

She was so small she made him feel gigantic. Which felt kind of good. For whatever reason. She had less hair than he did, which sprigged up at the sides and the back, despite the array of colorful clips that were scattered throughout it to keep it in place.

Her name was Blue.

She lived in a house full of women. She talked about her mother and her mother's friends and some aunts and a cousin, she never mentioned a father. Neither did Adam. She made most of her own clothing. The clothes she did buy she bought secondhand and reconstructed or deconstructed them until they fit her needs. She told him these things while he sat at the counter of Nino's and she smuggled him free milkshakes. It had become a comfortable routine. She talked and he did his homework. He told her what customers said about her behind her back. It was mostly positive, save for the disgruntled elderly couple that kept insisting conspiratorially to each other she was giving them regular Dr. Pepper instead of Diet. Today was no different.

"I can't believe they're accusing me of  _poisoning_ them," she said, wholly offended.

Adam smirked. "They're probably spreading it around to rest of their friends. At bingo or bridge or whatever."

Blue slammed down the wet rag she was mopping the counter with. "They're ruining my reputation!"

"Slander," Adam agreed. "You should sue."

Blue was about to laugh when she looked behind Adam and frowned. "Oh, great."

"What?"

"Bastards at 6 o'clock," she said.

"From where you're facing," Adam told her, "6 o'clock is behind you."

"Maybe I meant  _your 6 o'clock_ , you asshole."

"Who is it?" Adam goaded with a smirk. "Your ex-boyfriend?"

Blue glared daggers at him. "No," she said. "Worse. Raven Boys. Humanoid scum buckets."

"Wow, thanks." Adam scoffed.

Blue blinked at him, realization contorting her features into a disgust he hadn't seen since the smushed snack cake incident. "You...go to Aglionby?"

"Yeah," he said.

Blue said, "I've never seen you in a uniform."

"I usually change out of it right after school if I can help it," he shrugged. He didn't mention it was because it was already fraying and wearing in too many places and he was desperately trying to keep it as nice as possible.

Blue frowned.

Adam was confused. "What?"

She shook her head. "You just didn't seem like the type. You  _don't_  seem like the type."

He knew Blue didn't mean it in a bad way, but he still bristled at the observation. "I'm there on a scholarship," he explained tightly.

"That's not what I meant," she rolled her eyes. "Most guys that come in from there are complete jerkoffs. And I can smell them from a mile away. I never would have guessed you were...one of them."

"I can assure you," Adam replied bitterly. "I am not."

"Congratulations," Blue said in earnest.

He laughed and turned his head nonchalantly to look where a group of boys were occupying a booth behind him. His heart stopped cold. He whipped his head back around and swallowed. "Shit."

"What?" Blue's eyebrows raised. "You know them?"

He ducked his head closer to Blue and said, "are they looking over here?"

"Get the hell out of my face," she hissed, "you're making us look obvious. And—" she turned her head leisurely to the other side, paused as if she were checking the clock on the wall. "No."

"Oh," she murmured when she turned back to him. "Yes."

"They're looking?" his voice came out embarrassingly strained.

"What is wrong with you? Are they bullies or something?" Blue was fierce now. "Want me to poison them?"

Adam shook his head. "No. And no."

"Then how do you know them?"

"I go to school with them."

"Obviously." She ground out through gritted teeth. "But what's going on? Why are you afraid of them?"

"I'm not." His body was buzzing with panicked energy. He almost wanted to tell her. He almost wanted to spill his guts right there all over the counter she'd just finished cleaning. Instead, Adam shut his history book with a labored sigh. "Look, I gotta go."

Blue grunted her disapproval. "Seriously? Just because they're here?"

"It's getting late," he said. "I've got...chores." That was a normal sort of excuse, wasn't it? 

Blue wasn't pleased, but sighed resignedly. "Okay. I'm letting you off easy. Just this once." She leaned in to Adam and quickly pressed her lips to the side of his face.

Adam's skin was uncomfortably hot. "What was that for?"

"Don't get any funny ideas," Blue made a face. "They just need to know you're under my protection."

"Well," Adam forced himself to joke, though his heart was pounding. "I'm sure now they're sufficiently terrified."

"Exactly," Blue nodded solemnly. "Anyway, go on and get out of here. I still might poison them. You'll hear about it on the news if I do. The old couple will give a tearful interview to the local station that they always knew of my deviancy."

Adam tried to laugh and failed, flustered out something that resembled a goodbye to Blue and quickly packed up his things to leave.

When he turned around, he risked a glance to the booth. Gansey was looking at Blue, who Adam was sure was giving him a very unpleasant expression if she was looking back. Ronan was glaring out the window. Adam refused to reach out and feel for him. He could tell by the squint of his eyes and the tense set of his jaw that he was pissed.

For the first time, Adam was angry. What the fuck was his problem? This was a public place in a small town. It wasn't like Adam planned for them to come here at the same time he was. And he'd been coming here for weeks and never seen any of them once. Adam was used to his presence being a burden. The mere sight of him a trigger for someone's violent anger. He knew how to make himself small, to keep himself safe. But he'd never been a burden to Ronan. Ronan never made him feel like he needed to fold himself up and stay out of his way. Ronan had always wanted him without condition, all of him, all the time. It just wasn't like that anymore. Maybe seeing Adam in real life finally made him realize how much he didn't need him. It didn't make sense, but in real life, most things didn't. People changed their minds about how they felt all the time.

He let himself look at Ronan, really look at him, only for a moment. He let it hurt.

And then he walked away.

* * *

 

When it came to being hit, it was mostly unpredictable. Over the years, of course, Adam had learned to look for signs of a foul mood festering in his father, which alerted him to stay out of his way as much as possible, to speak agreeably when he could force himself. It was easier when he was younger. It seemed to follow some kind of twisted schedule that Adam could easily keep track of. As he got older it became more of a losing battle. Whether it was his father's or his own increasing instability, he wasn't entirely sure. He didn't go out of his way to piss him off, but he didn't bend over backward to not piss him off, either. It wasn't like it mattered, anyway. It was like that old computer game with the numbers and the mines. No matter how good your strategy was or how many times you'd played it before, sometimes the first space you click on just explodes in your face. Nothing you can do about that. So why bother playing the game at all?

Tonight was like that. His father hadn't even been that particularly angry. He wasn't yelling. He wasn't even hitting him  _that_  hard, comparatively speaking. But it was relentless. It went on and on. For a good twenty minutes. That was what Adam did to pass the time of it. Count the minutes in his head. He wasn't sure why. It had long since been disproven trying to gather data to predict the assaults made any difference whatsoever. All he could do these days was mentally prepare himself for an incoming. For instance, it was mid October now and there hadn't really been a big blowout since right before school started. So it made sense that one would be coming soon. Counting the minutes, it was just something to do. It helped deflect the things that were being said to him. That was probably the hardest thing for Adam to block out, to numb himself to. Pain was much easier, which was annoying. Because the words stuck around much longer than the bruises did. The hitting was just pure rage and resentment being taken out on him. But the drilling reminders of how stupid, useless, ungrateful, disrespectful, awful awful awful he was harder to come to terms with. It gave the illusion that if he were to try harder to stop being so stupid, useless, ungrateful, and disrespectful maybe he wouldn't get punished like this. But that didn't seem to be the case.

Weak, too. How could he forget weak? That was a favorite of Robert Parrish's. Well, his father liked to use much more crude words but that was his intended meaning. Which was another confusing thing. Adam was weak if he tried to cover himself. But he was weak if he took the hits, too.  _Look at you, you don't even try to fight back._  Followed by a slurry of disgusting words that essentially meant the same thing.

Adam had thought, once,  _does he really want me to fight him? Is that was this whole thing is about? Some extreme archaic character building exercise to toughen me up? Would that impress him? If I fought back? Would it make him respect me more? Hate me less? Is that what he wants?_

Adam had never struck his father, in defense or otherwise. There was the one time, years back, when he was out of his mind enough to wrench his arm away from his bruising grasp. He didn't really remember what had been going through his mind to make him do it. A blip of momentary insanity, he supposed. He'd yanked himself away so hard that Adam's father (drunk, of course) had toppled backward into a dresser. The world completely stopped. Honestly. Time stood utterly and terrifyingly still.

And then when the world reset and Adam's father got up (a little dazed but completely unhurt), Adam learned two things very quickly:

1\. Fighting back was not what his father wanted at all.

2\. Never ever ever ever ever ever do something like that again.

He could take a lot. But he wasn't keen to relive that experience any time soon. He was so grateful that he'd severed the connection before that happened. He would have never been able to forgive himself if Ronan had been subjected to what happened that night.

So really, all things considered, tonight wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. He didn't understand why he was so upset. It hadn't even been that bad. There was no reason for him to be like this. He was sore and tired and he just wanted to go to sleep. But he was overwhelmingly miserable. It was startling how draining it was, to just marinate in one's own maudlin despondency. He understood why people with recurring depression just wanted to fucking end it. How simple that would be. Permanent relief. Though he didn't celebrate the idea, he understood it. But Adam didn't want to die. Unfortunately.

What did he want?  _What_ did he  _want_?

Right now he wouldn't mind a painkiller. Or to stop crying.

He wished Blue was here to tell him to get the hell over himself. He wished—he wished—

_Hey._

Adam's insides froze.

_Adam?_

He didn't move, he didn't breathe.

He didn't know how to block himself off the way Ronan had been doing these past weeks, but he prayed this would be enough. If he didn't react or respond—

_I know you're there. You might as well say something._

Adam let go of his breath. He said,  _leave me alone._

He felt a flicker of emotion that was not his own. He wanted to reach for it, feed on it. He held himself still.

A long stretch of silence passed. He could still feel Ronan's presence. Close enough to reach for, pull closer. When it was clear Ronan wasn't going to leave, he finally said,  _look, I'm sorry you had to feel that._ He didn't know what else to say. He hated having to apologize, but the idea of it still just made him sick. He hated someone else getting hurt because of him more. Even if that someone was...someone who didn't care about him.

 _Feel what?_ Ronan's voice was confused in his head.

Oh. Well, shit. He said,  _nothing. Nevermind. What do you want?_ He punctuated each word with as much indifference as he could manage.

 _I heard you crying._ Ronan's voice was soft and strange.  _I just...I haven't heard you cry since...did something happen? Are you hurt?_

It was such a ridiculous question, Adam couldn't help but laugh. He had to grab for his pillow and smother it over his mouth. Now was not a good time to be waking up his parents. He laughed and laughed until it wasn't so much of a laugh but more of some kind of half hearted cotton-muffled scream.

 _Adam?_   _Adam._ He could feel Ronan's alarm. This was how pathetic he'd become. He stopped laughing or screaming or whatever it was he was doing.

 _I didn't feel anything_ , He felt the familiar growl of Ronan's frustration.  _What happened?_

Adam removed the pillow from his face to reach up his shirt and press down into the sore spot on his ribs, hard.

He asked,  _do you feel that?_

Ronan hissed in a shocked breath.  _Fuck, Adam._

He felt anxiety. Agitation. Fear. Anger.

 _Where are you?_  Ronan asked, his mood focusing into a sharp point of — something. Adam couldn't tell.

 _Home_ , Adam answered.

 _Yeah, but_ where _?_ Ronan pressed.

Adam scoffed.  _In my room, in my bed?_

 _Don't be an idiot_ , Ronan huffed.  _What is your fucking address?_

 _Why,_ Adam said, his stomach twisting uncomfortably,  _do you want to know?_

_Because I'm coming to get you._

Adam's heart stopped in his chest.  _No._

 _Yes_ , Ronan answered simply. He could feel his impatience.

 _Just leave me alone, Ronan,_  Adam said again.  _I'm tired._

 _I'm not,_ Ronan replied.  _I can't sleep._

 _Good luck with that,_ Adam spat.  _I'm going to bed._

Another long pause stretched between them.

Finally Ronan said,  _Adam, tell me where you are._ Then quietly and hurriedly,  _please._

 _You can't just...come over here_ , Adam said, the absurdity of the suggestion outweighing nearly everything else.  _It's two in the morning._   _What the fuck._

 _I'm not asking to come in for coffee, Adam,_ Ronan said.  _I'm telling you to sneak the fuck out._

Adam snorted.  _No._

 _Why?_ Ronan asked.

Adam wanted to laugh again. Why? Where should he begin? He didn't know what game Ronan was playing. He didn't know why he wanted to find out.

He said,  _because you called me an idiot._

 _You're not an idiot_ , Ronan said with an earnestness that rattled Adam's bones.

But he must have been, because the next thing he said to Ronan was his address.

 _Fifteen minutes_ , Ronan told him.  _I'll be there. Come out and meet me._


	4. Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry forever, i know you guys hate the long waits inbetween chapters. but this chapter is very long so i hope that makes up for it a little bit. and i just want to say that the support and feedback for this story is absolutely overwhelming. i seriously can't even begin to tell you how much it means to me. writing that last chapter was really hard for me for a lot of reasons. there was a lot going on for me personally and i just felt broken and used up and like i didn't have it in me to write again. the fact that i got such an amazing response to it was so, so wonderful. i just don't have the words. you are all so amazing, thank you for reading my story. i just. skfajadskj <3.
> 
>  **SPECIFIC TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:** self-medicating with alcohol, referenced alcohol dependence, suicidal ideation, self-harm

 

 _I said I was trying, I really was driving the coast_  
_The fight or the flight, well I side with the latter most_  
_It almost is laughable but when I chuckle I choke_  
_Can't get the words out my throat, one more_  
_Oh, is that my lion's pride?_  
_I meet my mountain then I run and hide,_  
_and I cross my heart and hope to die_

_Unless I happen to lie_

["Promises"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ndm3U-QbuIU) \- Ryn Weaver

 

* * *

 

 

Ronan was five years old the first time he had a nightmare.

He didn't remember what the nightmare was about, only how it made him feel. He remembered waking up alone in a dark room, his room, though nothing about it felt safe or familiar. Everything was warped and sinister, cast in smudgy black shadows. He remembered lying in bed, holding himself impossibly still, waiting for the all encompassing feeling of terror to leave him.

When it didn't, he devised a new plan of action. He wanted his mom and dad. He needed to get to them. But getting from his room to theirs required leaving the assumed safety of his bed that he felt with the unshakeable certainty only a five year old could.

He didn't remember how he convinced himself to get out of bed, if he ran out of his room or walked or crawled. He did remember standing in front of his parent's bedroom door for what felt like a long time, suddenly too afraid to knock.

He remembered being afraid, unsure of what to do. He remembered passing by his brother's room on the way back to his own. He didn't remember if he knocked on the door, he didn't think he did. He remembered climbing up into his brother's bed, as quietly as he could, settling himself on top of the blankets as to not disturb his sleeping brother. He didn't remember falling asleep.

He remembered being rustled awake some time later, his brother blinking sleepily at him, confused.

"What are you doing in here?"

Ronan shrank into himself, distressed. "I had a bad dream."

Declan simply pulled his blankets out from under Ronan and pulled them up so Ronan was underneath them before rolling over and going back to sleep. Ronan wriggled further into the bed, the warmth of blankets and his brother's presence comforting him.

And as the nightmares persisted, Declan's room became his safe place.

Something told him waking up his parents would not be a fruitful venture, and his little brother's room only had a tiny bed fit for one small person. Plus, what was Matthew going to do to keep him safe? He was a baby.

He remembered the way Declan laughed when he told him that, and ruffled his hair.

It was the last memory he had of sleeping with Declan, though he knew logically it went on after that. But he couldn't remember it.

He  _did_  remember the night instead of pulling up the covers and welcoming him in, Declan had regarded him with an exhausted sigh.

"We're too old for this, Ronan," Declan told him as he led him by the shoulders back to his own dark bedroom.

"What does that mean?" Ronan asked.

"That means sleeping in your own bed, in your own room." Declan sounded like he was reciting something from a manual.

Ronan shuddered in his cold bed. "But what if I get scared?"

"Then you have to be a big boy about it," Declan said. "Okay?"

"Okay," Ronan whispered, but he didn't know the first thing about being a big boy. He hadn't realized he was supposed to. He thought he should have been warned in advance.

He didn't remember what he did the next time he woke up from a nightmare. And it was the waking up that was the worst part. The hazy mental state between asleep and awake, the inability to focus rationally on anything. Everything just felt like danger, like fear. The feeling of being awake in the dark, alone and frightened, was no more comforting than the feeling that he was drifting off back to sleep, where his nightmares were still there waiting for him.

He remembered for a time after that in which the roles were reversed and Ronan occasionally awoke to find his younger brother, Matthew, tucked into bed beside him. He remembered feeling awkward and guilty, how was he supposed to comfort his little brother when he was still so scared himself? Matthew's impromptu visits tapered off after awhile. It was possible that Matthew had just gotten more comfortable sleeping in his own bed alone, but Ronan couldn't help but feel like the worst big brother ever.

Adam showed up soon after that, which sort of overshadowed the rest of it. He sometimes wondered, when he was older, if that was why he'd invented Adam in the first place. So he wouldn't have to wake up alone.

The darkness of his room no longer seemed so big and threatening when he had Adam's warm, reassuring voice in his head.  _It's okay, Ronan. I'm here, I'm here. It was just a bad dream. You're okay. I'm here._

He remembered curling into himself tightly, holding Adam's presence as close to him as he possibly could. Falling asleep was easier that way. Even if it was another nightmare that awaited him, at least he knew Adam was there with him, and would be there when he woke up. Adam was so constant, so safe.

At least, he used to be.

He thought Adam leaving had been the worst thing that ever happened to him.

But this? This was...something else. Maybe worse. Definitely  _not good_.

He wasn't even sure what exactly was happening. At first he'd managed to calm himself by thinking the whole thing was some kind of vivid hallucination. But then he remembered Gansey had seen Adam too, spoken to him. And he felt sick all over again.

He wanted this to be a nightmare. He wanted to wake up in the dark, alone. He wanted Adam to murmur to him inside his head that everything was alright, that it was just a bad dream.

He'd tell him,  _I dreamt you were real. I saw you, in real life._

Adam would laugh and make a joke of it.  _Well, was I good-looking?_

Ronan would grunt so he wouldn't have to answer.

And then Adam would tell him it was okay, that it was just a dream.  _Of course I'm not really real, Ronan. Not like that. I'm here for you, in your head, I'm right here._

It wasn't that he hadn't ever given thought to the idea of Adam being real.

Adam  _was_  real, for all intents and purposes. He always had been. To Ronan.

But.

He lived somewhere else, in his head, on a distant planet, in a parallel universe, in some fringe reality. He didn't live here, in this world, in this town, in this particular reality. That was impossible. That was too much. He didn't want it. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't explain why the thought was so abhorrent, but he knew that it was unbearable. Adam. Here. Walking around somewhere, mere miles away from him. Eating in the same restaurants he did. Going to his fucking school.

He felt sick, he felt so sick.

He was shaking in his bed, dizzy with violent energy. He'd walked all the way back to Monmouth from Nino's, he should be exhausted, but he was wired. Ready to burst, ready to burn. Finally he had to get up and pull a beer out of the fridge. He wasn't looking to get drunk, just to calm his nerves. He didn't remember finishing it. He didn't remember grabbing for another. He didn't remember finishing that one, either.

Suddenly he didn't remember how long he'd been sitting on the floor. There were four empty beer bottles in front of him. Gansey would be pissed if he drank the entire six pack. But maybe if he just got rid of the evidence entirely, he'd be less likely to notice. Therefore, the last two bottles needed to be finished off as well. When he was done, he threw the bottles in the trash. He felt tired. Bed. That sounded good. He wasn't drunk. He was tired, though. His body felt heavy. He didn't remember why he'd left his bed in the first place.

Oh, that's right. Everything was completely fucked.

"Ronan," the sound of his name was accompanied by urgent rapping at his bedroom door. Had he been asleep? How long had he been out? He couldn't say. More knocking. " _Ronan_."

Ronan knew that voice. It was Gansey's  _serious business_  voice. Gansey knew privacy was important to Ronan and so Ronan knew that Gansey wouldn't come into his room uninvited. But he also he knew he'd stand out there all fucking day and night, knocking and calling to him, if he was using that voice.

Ronan rolled over in bed, staring bleary eyed up at the ceiling. He sighed heavily. "What."

"Can I come in?"

He growled in frustration. He heard the door creak open. Apparently Gansey had translated that affirmatively.

"Hey," he felt Gansey's familiar weight sink down into the edge of his bed. "How are you feeling?"

Ronan didn't respond. He didn't know how to.

He felt Gansey squeeze one of his feet through his blankets. "Talk to me," he said.

He didn't have the strength to tell Gansey to leave him alone. He silently, reluctantly, drew his foot away from Gansey's idly rubbing grasp.

He felt like Gansey was probably frowning at him now, since he wasn't saying anything.

"I'm tired," Ronan finally told him, hoping that would be the end of it. At least for now.

"You're drunk," Gansey said, the words coming out quiet and startled.

Ronan scoffed into his pillow. "No, I'm not."

"How much have you had to drink?"

"All of it," Ronan mumbled.

"Right," Gansey's tone was clipped. "Not drunk."

"I'm fine."

For the record, Ronan really didn't feel drunk at all. It was as if he was immune to the large amount of alcohol he'd just consumed. Which was annoying. The one time he actually cared about letting the buzz of intoxication numb him, it hadn't worked.

"You drank entire six pack in a matter of hours," Gansey said. "You haven't binged like that in ages, Ronan. That's not good."

"Correction," Ronan said, "I drank an entire six pack in under one hour."

"How have you not vomited?" Gansey asked, sounding more curious than outraged. "Or pissed yourself?"

"Maybe I have," Ronan shrugged lazily. "Maybe you're sitting in it."

Gansey sighed. "Look, I know you're upset. And if you need some time to process this, that's fine. I think you should at least touch base with Adam, though. He was quite out of sorts, himself."

Ronan shot up in bed. "What the fuck?"

Gansey blinked at him, mildly startled. "What?"

Ronan's heart thumped against his ribcage. "You...you talked to him?"

Ronan felt immediately stupid for not realizing that of course Gansey would have spoken to him. But he hadn't really been thinking clearly when he left Nino's. He just knew he needed to get out of there.

He was sick all over again at the thought of Gansey talking to Adam. Talking to him. In real life. In person. He was nonsensically jealous. He felt somehow betrayed. Left out. Which didn't make sense, but nothing really did at the moment.

"Yes, I talked to him for awhile at Nino's and then I drove him back to school so he could get his bike and I could pick up Noah—"

"You drove him?" Ronan's voice was uncharacteristically high. "You let him into your car?"

Gansey eyed Ronan oddly. "Well, it's not as if he's some deranged stranger."

"Yes, he is!" Ronan felt his hands beginning to shake. "We have no idea who he is...or why he's here."

Gansey's brows furrowed. "I...I don't know what you mean by that, Ronan. You've known Adam since you were a child. You've never had a bad thing to say about him in all the years I've known you. Why wouldn't he be trustworthy?" Gansey looked thoughtful. "Unless there's something you've not told me."

"Adam isn't real," Ronan hissed through his teeth. "I made him up."

"So you thought," Gansey replied slowly. "But clearly that isn't the case, after all. I know it's a lot to take in. Adam seemed just as rattled as you are."

"Stop it!" Ronan's shoulders were shaking now too. "I don't want to fucking hear this."

"Ronan," Gansey leaned forward to take Ronan's shaking hands in his. "You're in shock. It's okay. Adam was like this too."

"Stop fucking saying his name!" Ronan yanked his hands away. "Stop talking about him. Like you...like you know him."

"I don't know him," Gansey said after a moment. "At least, not very well. Not the way you do."

What did Ronan know? Nothing. Who was that person he'd sat across from at Nino's? He was a stranger.

And he wasn't.

Ronan used to think about what it would be like to meet Adam. A lot, actually. To really see him, in real life. When he was little he had hundreds of scenarios running through his mind at any given moment, each one more unrealistic than the next. Sometimes he imagined he'd be at the supermarket with his mother and find Adam sitting on the floor crying in the cereal aisle. Sometimes he found him on the side of the road, aimlessly wandering. Adam was always tragically orphaned, somehow, in these fantasies. His family would be delighted to take Adam into their home. Even Declan would like having him around. He'd stay in Ronan's room, of course, even though it was a bit cramped with the two of them in there. After awhile the fantasies narrowed from the broad excitement of finding Adam in random locations like some hidden prize in a video game and became specifically more about Adam being in his room, sharing his space, his bed. The more Ronan thought about it the more he found himself coming out of these self indulgent visions feeling feverish and frustrated and unnervingly embarrassed. He figured it was because he was just getting too old to be playing pretend in his head like that.

Anyway, it's not like he ever really wanted those things to  _happen_. Maybe when he was a child, yes. He actually thought such a thing was possible. But once he grew up he knew that it wasn't. Adam was a voice in his head. He knew that. It didn't stop him from caring for him deeply or worrying about him or wanting to protect him when he was in danger. But really, at the end of it all, he knew though Adam might be real to him, he'd never be real to anyone else.

He'd even given some thought to what his short-term therapist had suggested. Maybe he  _had_  created Adam out of some sort of desperate loneliness. Maybe when Adam left it was because Ronan didn't really need him anymore. Maybe Ronan  _hadn't_  known how to deal with that.

And when Adam came back? Well, he could make sense of that, too, if he tried. He had lost his father, his mother (in a way), his brother (but he'd never really had him in the first place). He couldn't help but draw the conclusion that Adam had returned because suddenly Ronan needed him again. So, he was crazy. He'd invented a boy to be around to comfort him and keep him company when he needed it. So what? It was a lot better than driving himself off a cliff or committing mass murder. It might be a little fucked up, a little embarrassing, but he was okay with it.

How was he supposed to be okay with this?

* * *

 

"I think a week is stretching it a bit, don't you?" Gansey said, not averting his eyes from the textbook he was thumbing through.

Ronan rolled his eyes. "I'm not going back."

Gansey's jaw clenched, though he said nothing.

"Come on, Ronan." Noah sighed. "It's senior year. It'd be stupid to drop out now."

Ronan shrugged. "Whatever."

Gansey shut his book and looked at Ronan. "Ronan," he said, and Ronan already wanted to tell him to shut up, or storm out of Monmouth, or do something else equally dramatic.

"I'm not going to lecture you on this," Gansey went on, "but I am asking you, I am  _asking you_  to please do this for me. For us." He gestured to Noah. "We can't finish out school without you."

"I've done everything you've asked of me," Gansey continued when Ronan didn't respond. "I told Adam to stay away from us. From you. I haven't spoken to him since. And he hasn't tried to make any sort of contact with us. I really don't think he'd be a bother to you, if you came back. He seems...content to keep to himself."

Gansey looked like he'd just swallowed something horribly sour. He hadn't been very happy when Ronan had laid out his terms to him regarding Adam. But he'd made up his mind and nothing Gansey could do or say was going to change that.

He didn't know what was happening or why, but he didn't care to find out, either. Maybe he had secret supernatural powers and had somehow accidentally manifested Adam into being. Maybe he was being tested by God. Maybe Adam had just been real, all along. As real as Ronan. Two boys, somehow mentally linked to each other. But why? How?

It didn't matter. Ronan wasn't interested.

Adam, to his credit,  _had_ been staying away. Not only in person as Gansey had just confirmed, but in his head, too. That was good. That was good. That meant Adam wanted the same thing Ronan did. To forget this.

Though for some reason Ronan couldn't quite squash the ache that pulled at his insides. He'd gotten used to having Adam in his head again. Feeling him. Knowing him. Being Felt. Being Known. It had almost felt like he'd never been gone in the first place. It was a breakneck adjustment, being suddenly without him. Again.

He didn't like it. He didn't like anything about this. But it wasn't any good to dwell on missing the way things used to be. They could never go back to that. It was all ruined now.

"Ronan. Ronan—!" Gansey's voice was sharp. "Are you listening?"

"No," Ronan replied, earning a soft snort from Noah.

"If you're not going back to school, then neither are we," Gansey announced with all the drama of a Regency heroine. Ronan scoffed.

"Yeah, okay."

"We're serious," Noah looked at Gansey as he spoke.

Ronan shook his head, annoyed. "No, you're not. Your parents would never agree—"

"We're not asking for permission," Gansey cut in. "We're just not going to show up to classes until the school has no option other than to expel us."

Ronan huffed out a disbelieving breath. "Yeah, right. Your parents would kill you. Both of you." He looked pointedly at Noah. "You like,  _just_ got your car back. No way you're gonna piss them off again any time soon."

Gansey merely shrugged. "We've already made the decision. If you're not going to go back to school, then  _neither are we_." Noah nodded his concurrence solemnly.

Ronan had just rolled his eyes at them. He didn't believe it, of course. Even the next day, when Gansey and Noah both stayed home. Clanking about the factory and making a goddamn ruckus that Ronan couldn't sleep through, they were obviously just trying to make a point. Well, Ronan was calling their bluff.

He finally snapped on the third morning he was forced to endure their raucous presence. He stomped noisily into their living room area, glaring heatedly at the both of them as he did so. Gansey stopped whatever hideously green concoction he was creating with the blender. Noah turned down his nauseating nasal pots-and-pans music. They both stared at him, waiting.

"You two are loud as fuck and annoying as shit," Ronan hiked his book bag up over his shoulder. "I'm going to fucking school."

He stalked out of their residence too quickly to notice the wicked smile that spread across his friends faces. Nearly eighteen years old and still so easily had.

* * *

 

Ronan had been stupid enough to think that enough time had passed that seeing Adam at school wouldn't bother him. Gansey had said he'd talked to him. That he kept to himself. Ronan had convinced himself that he probably wouldn't even notice him. He hardly ever noticed anyone else.

He realized his mistake the second he walked into Latin class and saw the top of Adam's head bent over his desk. He knew it was Adam because the nondescript dusty brown color of his hair was seared into Ronan's memory, almost traumatically so. He recognized the long, straight slope of his nose, the sharp cut of his jaw, even obscured and skewed by the downward tilt of his head.

He wanted to turn around and walk right back out of the room, but then Adam, as if he'd heard some internal alarm go off, sharply looked up at him. His eyes went wide and blank, total shock slackened his features. Though somehow the look felt like some kind of challenge, and to back down from it would be the worst kind of humiliation. Ronan turned his face away and walked to his favored seat near the back of the room.

He wondered with a idling sickness how he'd sat through this class on the first day of school with Adam in the same fucking room and not been able to tell. It wasn't like the teachers called out roll like elementary school, so of course he had no way of knowing. But he should have, shouldn't he? He should have known. That sick feeling inside only worsened as he wondered if this was the only class he had with Adam, or were there more?

He wasn't sure if he could handle it, being this close to him day in and day out. He had this sudden impulse to reach out to him with his mind and just, feel him there. He squashed it down immediately. He sometimes had the impulse to stick his hand into a burning flame or throw himself off a bridge as he was crossing it, and if he could abstain from those fleeting intrusive thoughts, surely he could manage this.

He stole another look in Adam's direction. His head was bent down again. He was writing something in a notebook. He watched as Adam's head quickly flicked in the direction of the open textbook on his desk and then back to his notebook. He looked completely unbothered by what had just happened. Like nothing had happened at all. Gansey was right. He  _was_ content to keep to himself.

It didn't make any sense for that to hurt Ronan, but it did.

In the end, he did have one other class with Adam. Two classes a day wasn't a big deal. He would hardly see him at all, really. And even when he did see him he didn't really have to see him. Adam was easy to ignore. He was quiet in class. He only spoke when called on. It was a struggle, at first, having to listen to him speak.

Ronan hadn't been prepared for it in the slightest. One moment his Latin teacher was saying, "Mr. Parrish, if you'd read the following passage aloud…" And then it just  _happened._

Hearing Adam's voice echo outside of his own head felt obscene at best and downright criminal at worst. It wasn't something that should be allowed to happen. Ronan hated it. But he endured it. And in time he almost became used to it. Adam was easy to ignore. Really, he was. He didn't draw attention to himself naturally, which meant there weren't many chances for Ronan to accidentally make eye contact with him, which was something he vehemently feared. It had happened, unfortunately, a few times. But that was just unavoidable coincidence. Except for the random times he was forced to hear Adam read from a textbook or answer a question, it was theoretically possible to go on about his school day as if Adam wasn't there at all.

Parrish.

That was what the teacher had called him by, the first time he'd spoken in class.

Parrish.

That was his last name.

Adam Parrish.

Ronan didn't like it. It didn't sound right. He rolled it around his brain until it became nothing but a jumble of sounds that didn't mean anything. _Adam Parrish Adam Parrish Adam Parrish Adam Parrish._ It sounded unfamiliar. Foreign. Like nothing that had ever belonged to him.

Adam was easy to ignore. Ronan reminded himself of this often. Daily. When he caught a glimpse of him in the hallways, his footsteps soft but full of personal authority. When he was momentarily struck by the way the light from the classroom window transformed the dull brown of his hair into shimmering sand. The quiet way he held himself. The deliberate way his mouth moved when he spoke in class. The way his long fingers curled purposefully around a pen.  _Easy_ , Ronan reminded himself. Easy.

* * *

 

"Hey," Declan said, leaning over Matthew to address Ronan. "We're going to see mom after this."

Sunday Mass had just ended and people were beginning to slowly file out of the church. Ronan blinked at his brother in a way that he hoped conveyed extreme disdain. Declan, predictably, pretended not to notice.

Visiting their mother was always a strange, polarizing event in Ronan's brain. He yearned for her company, like any loving son, but he loathed the sole way in which he had access to her. Especially since it was always Declan setting up the visits. Always the three of them together. And now that Declan was out of town for school, usually on a Sunday.

He still hadn't forgiven Declan for putting their mother in a home like some kind of unwanted nuisance. He could admit that his mother was...a little broken...after his father's death but he still didn't agree with the way Declan had gone about the whole thing. His mother seemed like she was doing alright in the dubiously named 'assisted living facility' she'd been staying in. It was really more like an expensive hotel for rich people with issues. There were group therapy sessions available for various things but they were optional. The 'visitors' as they were encouraged to be called were pretty much free to roam about the place however they pleased. It was full of mostly old people who needed help with basic bodily functions whose relatives were too busy rolling up their money and smoking it to have time to care for anyone but themselves. But there were also a few scattered people like his mother, who actually did have mental health issues that needed to be tended to. Ronan couldn't imagine it was the most secure place for things like that to be handled properly, but Ronan's mother constantly reassured him that she was enjoying her time there and found that it was the best place for her for the time being. Sometimes when they went to visit she was bright, even cheerful. Happy to see her sons and full of questions and jokes and doling out endless hugs and kisses. And some days were...not great. She would be visibly depressed, her golden hair unwashed and bunched in tangles. She was prone to zoning out in the middle of conversations. It was hard for her to stay focused for very long periods of time. It was hard for Ronan to see his mother, who he'd always known to be filled to the brim with the brightest and most beautiful signs of joy and life, like that.

Even on the better days, the casual suggestion of home drew her lips thin and tight across her face. She wasn't ready to become re-acquainted with the real world. Sometimes Ronan wondered if she ever would be.

"How is she?" Ronan asked Declan warily. Though he loved each of them no less than the other, he liked to at least be prepared for which version of his mother he was going to face.

The three of them crowding into her room at once seemed to overwhelm her in the beginning, so they'd become accustomed to going in one at a time. "Age Before Beauty," Ronan had quipped when Declan suggested they go in birth order.

"Good," Declan nodded evasively. Ronan raised an eyebrow. "Well," Declan amended. "She's not...bad."

When Ronan entered the room, he was steeled for something much worse than what he saw. His mother was still in her night clothes and her long hair was tied into a sloppy braid that looked a few days old, but she greeted her son with a smile and her arms outstretched.

She smelled sweet and soapy, like this place, a smell he had grown to associate with his mother. He didn't like it. He missed the way she used to smell. Like home. He realized with an internal jolt that he couldn't even remember what that smelled like. He hadn't been back to the Barns since he'd left. He knew Declan paid people to come in every once in awhile and quickly assess and service the house. Dust things. Make sure the lights and water still worked. When their mother  _was_  ready to come home, they wanted home to be ready for her, too.

"Someone's got a lot on their mind," his mother's voice murmured knowingly into his ear.

He pulled back from her and shrugged. "How are you doing?"

His mother shook her head, cupped his face in her hands. "You know all I want to talk about is you."

"There's nothing going on with me," he told her. "Just school."

"Your senior year," her smiled faltered just a little. "How is it so far?"

"Fine," Ronan said. "Boring."

Now Aurora Lynch was frowning. Ronan resented his mother's ability to see right through him, though in truth he'd be devastated if she ever didn't.

She pulled back the blankets of her bed and motioned for him to sit beside her. Ronan took off his jacket and hung it over a nearby chair before joining her.

He fell against her easily. She was warm and solid. It was just the two of them. It was nice. It was such a release to be completely vulnerable around someone. If Ronan Lynch was going to do that around anyone, his mother was undoubtedly the one most equipped for the job.

She stroked the dark fuzz of his shorn head. "Are you growing it out?"

"Probably not," Ronan said. And then a little ruefully, "I thought you liked it."

"I do," she assured him sweetly. "But it's so beautiful when it's longer. Thick and dark. Just like your father's."

"Mm," Ronan replied awkwardly. His mother didn't bring up his father much in these little visits. Like she said earlier, she really only ever wanted to talk about her children.

"Of course Declan's is just the same," she murmured, still stroking Ronan's head. "So much like your father. The both of you. Not Matthew, though. Matthew is all mine."

Ronan wasn't sure he liked where this conversation was going. He wondered if she'd ever said the same thing to Declan. He wondered what his older brother would think of being compared to their father. He wasn't sure what he thought, himself. Part of him wanted to tell her she was wrong. That he wasn't like Niall Lynch at all. But what a horrible thing to think, to feel. He didn't know what to do with it.

He finally said, "I think I'm a pretty good mixture of the both of you." He tried to lace the comment with an air of humor, in hopes of making his mother laugh and breaking the uncomfortable tension that was steadily rising between them.

"You think so?" she asked. Ronan nodded against her chest.

She kissed the top of his head. "Well, I'm glad for it."

"One day Declan's going to walk through that door and I won't be able to tell the difference," his mother went on strangely, "but that's my fault."

A lump in Ronan's throat formed. There was no way his mom had been bringing this shit up to Declan. Why was she saying it to him? But if his mother wanted to talk about this, then they were going to fucking talk about it. She wouldn't have started the conversation for no reason. If she needed Ronan to do this for her, then there wasn't a question of his compliance.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You know," she said, "I'm sure you don't remember this, but you and Declan used to sleep together."

On second thought, maybe his mother's current mental state just wasn't as stable as he'd thought. He didn't understand what that had to do with anything they'd just been talking about.

"I—I remember," he said, not knowing what else he could say.

"You were so little," she said. "Both of you. I remember exactly what you looked like. I'd come into Declan's room early one morning to gather up clothes for the laundry. And there you both were, curled into each other. You looked so perfect, like two little princes in a fairytale."

Ronan tried to swallow, but his throat wouldn't allow it.

"I wanted him to see," her voice lowered in volume as she continued. "What perfect little angels we had created together. How sweet the two of you were. Loving each other so much. I couldn't imagine anything that would have made him happier."

Ronan felt cold suddenly, afraid. He had a feeling he was belatedly realizing the story his mother was telling him wasn't a happy one. He didn't want to hear the rest of it. But his throat had shut itself completely and he was incapable of stopping her.

"I don't know what he said to Declan," she sounded like she was on the verge of tears. "But I still remember the look on your brother's face when your father had finished having his talk with him. And I wanted to tell him—I wanted to take him aside and tell him not to listen to whatever he'd said. But I didn't. I guess I was afraid."

"Not of your father," she added hastily. "No, not really. Of what? I don't know. Isn't that something? One of the worst things I ever did and I can't even remember why."

" _Mom_ ," Ronan found his voice at last. "You didn't...you didn't do anything."

"Exactly," she nodded. "That's what's so horrible."

"That's not what I meant," Ronan huffed uncomfortably.

"Niall was always so hard on Declan," her voice was sharper now, it had lost its dream-like quality. "I always guessed it was because he was the oldest. His first son. That meant something to him. But I could have made it easier on him. I think I did, in some ways. Your brother is a good boy. A good man. But I could have done more, I could have…" she trailed off, never finishing the thought. Finally, she blinked, almost as if she was coming out of a trance.

"Listen to me!" she exclaimed with a startling vivacity. "Rambling nonsense when I should be asking about you." She gave Ronan a hard squeeze.

"We can talk about whatever you want, mom." Ronan told her quietly. In truth, he was deeply disturbed by the entire exchange between them and he didn't know what to think of it. But he wanted to be a good son. He wanted to help her. "If something's bothering you I want to know about it."

"Oh, don't worry about me," she brought him in for another kiss. "My sweet boy."

"Tell me what's going on in that beautiful mind," his mother prompted expectantly.

Unfortunately Ronan's mind was on his brother. He remembered the night he'd come into Declan's room when he was a little kid and unable to cope with the nightmares that plagued him, only to be coldly turned away. He never really thought much of the whole thing. It seemed reasonable enough that Declan had grown tired of his little brother crawling into his bed in the middle of the night. That was just the way Declan was, had always been.

But maybe he hadn't been born that way. Maybe he had been made.

Still, didn't change the fact that he was an insufferable asshole that cared for himself above anyone else, including his own family.

Well. That wasn't entirely true. Declan was fierce when it came to Matthew. He doted on him, always made sure he was taken care of. Ronan could respect that, if nothing else, obviously.

Their father may have been harder on Declan than he had on Ronan and Matthew. Maybe it was because of what his mother had suggested. He  _was_  the oldest. It was just the way things were. It wasn't like Declan had much to complain about, otherwise. Many people had it much worse.

Like Adam, for instance. The way he'd been treated by his father. Well, still was being treated as far as Ronan was aware.

Suddenly Ronan wanted to come clean to his mother about everything. Adam coming back. Adam showing up in real life. Talking to his friends, going to his school. Existing outside of Ronan's head. He wanted her to tell him it was all alright. He wanted her to tell him what he was supposed to do.

But his mother had too much on her plate already. She didn't need Ronan's declining mental stability on top of her own.

He opted for another truth, instead. "I just miss you," he told her. "That's all."

* * *

 

Ronan tried to put the unsettling visit with his mother out of his mind. He'd always thought his parents marriage was a happy one. They bickered every now and then, but surely that was normal. She must have loved him immensely, to be so incredibly broken after his death. Maybe she didn't completely agree with the way he'd chosen to raise their children, but all parents had their own little discrepancies between each other, right? It didn't mean anything — well nothing bad. Nothing worth worrying about. She felt guilty, he concluded, about not being able to be strong for her kids after their father died. That's what had brought on her strange demeanor during their last conversation. But Ronan didn't care about that. He didn't mind it if they were the ones that had to take care of her. She'd taken care of them for long, she more than deserved a break as far as Ronan was concerned.

There was one thing he couldn't seem to shake. Something she'd said. Or rather, the way she'd worded it.  _I guess I was afraid. Of what? I don't know. It was one of the worst things I ever did and I can't even remember why._

Oddly enough, the words made Ronan think of Adam.

If Ronan could find a single fault in Adam it would be the way he'd left him all those years ago.

Not only had it broken Ronan's heart, but it had nearly driven him insane.

Was Adam okay? Where was he? Was alive? Was he dead? Did he miss Ronan? Did he think of him at all? Had he forgotten him already? Did he regret leaving? Did he wish he could come back but didn't know how?

Ronan had no way of knowing the answer to any of those questions. It was agony.

Even if Adam's reasons for leaving had been sound, Ronan was certain he deserved more of an explanation than the one he'd gotten. It had lasted, what? All of two minutes? And then Adam was just gone. Gone, gone. Unreachable. Forever, he'd thought at that time.

That almost hurt worse than the absence of Adam, itself. And  _that_ hurt like Hell.

Ronan was, suddenly and overwhelmingly, guilty.

It was frustrating. It felt like he'd stumbled upon some sort of emotional breakthrough, but nothing made any more sense than it had since the day he'd heard Adam's voice coming out of a strange boy's lips.

"Oh," Noah's voice was the one breaking Ronan out of his reverie now. "Shit."

Ronan looked up at Noah, then followed his gaze to the counter of Nino's. His eyes landed on a small girl with short, spiky hair. She was the kind of girl boys would notice, he guessed. She had strange, disproportionate features. She looked like she belonged in a quirky French film. That was definitely Noah's type. His mind was already reeling through ways to embarrass Noah about this until his eyes focused on the boy she was talking to. The dusty hair, the sharp cut of his jaw, his big hands on the counter.

Oh.

"Ronan," Gansey said very quietly, "do you want to leave?"

Ronan didn't answer. All his attention was glued to the scene in front of him. The indie-film-looking girl was leaning into Adam and talking in what seemed to be hushed tones. She was smiling wryly, like they were sharing some kind of private joke.

She leaned in, quickly, and kissed him.

All at once a barrage of emotion smacked into Ronan.  _Shock. Nervousness. Affection. Amusement._

He realized a moment later those were Adam's emotions he'd just been blindsided by. Not his.

His throat went unbearably dry. The girl was still smiling as she spoke. He heard the soft timber of Adam's laughter. His heart clenched painfully in his chest. His head was spinning.

 _Who is this girl?_ he wondered frantically.  _Where did she come from? Adam had never mentioned—well, he hadn't spoken to Adam since—but Adam had only been in town for—who kisses someone they've only known for—_

Ronan sharply turned his head as Adam's body swiveled around to their direction. He stared out the window, willing his eyes to focus on the street outside and not the reflection behind him. He was certain he could feel Adam's wrought-iron gaze on him, but he decided he was making it up a moment later. He held himself completely still, teeth clenched, jaw tight. He didn't let himself exhale until he heard the shrill jingle of the bell attached to the front door of Nino's. He wanted to turn away. He should have. But instead he watched Adam's retreating figure disappear into the dark. His posture was relaxed and his gait was easy. He probably hadn't even noticed him. He was blissfully unaware of Ronan's proximity to him, Ronan's existence in general. How could he be? Couldn't he  _feel_  him, right fucking there? Had Ronan become such a non-entity in Adam's mind? He supposed Gansey had been right when he'd said Adam was content to keep to himself. But he wasn't. Keeping to himself. He had this girl, whoever she was, to talk close with and be kissed by.

So much for feeling guilty.

* * *

 

Adam was harder to ignore after that. Nearly impossible, really. Ronan wasn't just dodging awkward eye contact in the hallways at school anymore. His mind had finally turned on him. It seemed his brain was locked onto Adam's presence like a heat-seeking missile. No matter where he was or what he was doing he could feel Adam, right there. The thrum of Adam's energy called to Ronan, scratched at his insides, urged him to reach out and touch. He wondered if Adam could feel him, lurking about the edge of his consciousness like this. He knew, of course, well enough to stay away. Thus he exhausted every reckless resource imaginable, anything to distract himself from the excruciating nearness of Adam that was swallowing up his every thought.

He didn't want to resort back to drinking himself numb. He'd had a slip up weeks back and he wasn't keen on going down that road again. But right now all he wanted to do was sleep. And that wasn't something that was coming easy, as of late. Every time he closed his eyes the image of Adam walking away from him without a second thought was right there behind his eyelids. Still vivid as it had been a week ago.

That was where the alcohol came in. Though since his little relapse Gansey had declared a temporary ban on any alcoholic substances in Monmouth, status indefinite. He didn't want Ronan to be tempted to fall back into old habits. Ronan had loved him for this, really, but right now it was an aggravating obstacle. Ronan was lingering outside his door in the dark, debating whether or not to try his chances at a liquor store with his fake ID.

"Hey," Noah appeared at his side, seemingly materializing from thin air. He had an unsettling knack for doing that.

"What's up?" Noah asked quietly. Gansey was actually asleep, for once.

Ronan shrugged. "Can't sleep. Going for a drive."

Noah perked up at that. "Cool. I'll come."

Ronan cursed under his breath. There was no way he could blow Noah off without him being suspicious. Noah was a good friend for many reasons, one of them being his uncanny ability to keep secrets and to know when to keep his mouth shut. But Noah had also been the one to see Ronan at arguably his least finest moment. Years back, not very long after Ronan's father had died, Ronan talked Noah into driving a few towns over and trying their IDs at a local dive bar. Noah had been wary at first, especially since Ronan was adamant on the lack of Gansey's involvement in the excursion. But all Ronan had to do was roll his shoulders impatiently and give Noah a casual, "Come on, man. I really need this." And of course Noah couldn't say no, after that.

It had been fun, at first. On the drive there they were cracking each other up coming up with fake names and backstories to feed to anyone who asked. They drank, Noah tried in vain to flirt with girls, Ronan tried in vain to evade the girls that were flirting with him (which Noah found uproariously hysterical). They got wonderfully smashed to the point where nothing in the world seemed to matter except the two of them, making mischief together. And then suddenly, Ronan just plummeted. His body went cold. His hands were numb and shaky. His head, his whole body, just ached with misery. His dad was dead. His mom wouldn't get out of bed. His brother was an asshole. And Adam... _Adam_. He didn't even want to go there. He'd never felt so completely worthless. He didn't know how to get through to his mother, to Declan. He didn't know how to be there for Matthew. He didn't understand how to connect to his friends anymore. How to be normal around them. To act like everything was fine when it really fucking wasn't. He didn't want to make anyone's life harder than it already was, though that was the only thing he seemed to be good at. Maybe everyone would just be better off without him around. The exact details were fuzzy after that for Ronan. He remembered telling Noah he needed to take a piss. And the next thing he knew Noah was crouched over him in one of the grungy bathroom stalls, shirtless and shouting his name. He remembered looking down to see Noah's displaced shirt wrapped around his forearm, soaked through with dark red blood.

"It was an accident," Ronan told Noah over and over again on the way back from the hospital. "I was just drunk and fucking around and I accidentally—"

"Sliced your arm down to the vein?" Noah's teeth chattered. He was still shaking. He'd been crying. Ronan was so embarrassed. There was no need for Noah to be upset like this. He never should have dragged him along.

"I wasn't trying to…" Ronan trailed off, not even wanting to speak the words aloud. "I was just being stupid, Noah. It's no big deal."

Gansey said nothing from the driver's seat. Of course, in his disoriented panic, Noah had called  _him_ before he'd even called 911.

Noah was still as pale as a ghost. Ronan hated seeing him like that. "Look, dude," he tried to break the too heavy tension. "At least we made it out of the bar before getting our IDs confiscated."

Noah looked at him for a long, uncomfortable moment. The strangest look in his eyes, like he didn't know who Ronan was. Then he turned away, facing the window for the rest of the ride back to Monmouth.

Ronan really  _hadn't_  been trying to kill himself. The story he'd fed to the people at the hospital and Noah was mostly true. He  _was_  drunk. And he was, for lack of a better term, fucking around. He knew it was a thing people did. He'd never tried it before. He couldn't help but wonder if it really did...make you feel better. And he had been just out of his mind enough to put the theory into practice. He hadn't meant to cut so deep.  _That_  really had been an accident.

Noah blamed himself for it all the same. It was all water under the bridge these days, but it was something Ronan wouldn't ever really forgive himself for.

And now, he knew if Noah even had the slightest inkling Ronan was lobbying to get himself wasted tonight, there was no doubt in his mind Noah would ring the Gansey Alarm before he even stepped a foot out the front door.

"I'm just going to the drugstore," Ronan told him, which was now the new truth. "Something to help me sleep."

"I've got some Z-Quil in my room," Noah said. He added with a sheepish, knowing smile, "it's safe, non-habit forming, and alcohol-free."

Ronan sighed heavily. He knew Noah was mildly manipulating him, reminding him of what he'd been put through, but Ronan didn't mind. It was well deserved. Noah was, after all, just trying to be a good friend. Ronan couldn't do anything but love him for that.

"Sure," he told Noah with a shrug. "Worth a shot."

For something with such bright, cartoonish packaging that was allegedly suitable for adolescents, that shit did a number on Ronan. He swirled into semi-consciousness, furtively trying to cling to the psychedelic remnants of whatever abstract nonsensical dream he'd been having to no avail. He rolled over to check the time. A little past two. AM. He'd only slept for about four hours. He fell groggily back onto his pillow, willing sleep to claim him once more. He felt weird. Sore. His side ached with raw, inflamed tenderness. He squirmed uncomfortably in bed, his muscles straining as he did so. His head was starting to pound. Jesus Christ, he just couldn't catch a fucking break.

That's when he heard it.

Soft. But close.

His entire body went still. All at once, everything clicked into place. The pain he was feeling. That noise. Crying. Someone was crying. Not just any someone.

Without even thinking, Ronan reached out.

"Hey."

Was he wrong? He couldn't be wrong. He knew it. He felt it. He felt his pain. He heard his voice. He was hurt. Fuck. Something was wrong.

He took a deep breath and tried again. "Adam?"

* * *

 

Ronan didn't know what the fuck he was doing.

He'd been sitting outside the address Adam had given him for a good five minutes now. He'd told Adam he'd be there in fifteen.

He'd made it in ten.

He hadn't really been thinking when he'd decided to go and fucking — do this. Whatever it was he was doing.

He'd heard Adam...crying. He'd felt that fucking bruise on his ribs. And he'd just lost it.

Adam was  _hurt._  He needed him. And Ronan was completely certain that nothing else had ever mattered.

How many times had Ronan laid awake, clawing at Adam's presence like a needy animal, desperate to be closer? Wishing more than anything he could just reach out far enough, hard enough, and he'd be able to touch him — for real. It was pure torture sometimes, to be so close and yet so far away from someone.  _If only I could just be there_ , Ronan would lament to himself,  _be where he is._ But it was impossible.

Until now.

He took a deep breath and pulled out his cellphone. He paused for a moment, realizing he didn't have Adam's phone number.

He then quickly remembered where he was existing in time and space. Mentally smacking himself, he tentatively reached out.

It was startling how quickly Adam responded. "Yeah?"

"Uh," Ronan didn't bother thinking to talk. "I'm here."

"Oh," Adam said, "Okay."

This was awkward. This was really fucking awkward.

He could feel Adam's reluctance, uncertainty, unease. He clearly didn't want to be doing this. So why was he?

Ronan felt sick to his stomach. His legs bounced involuntarily underneath him. He dragged his palms across the denim of his jeans. When Adam got there, he needed to look normal. Casual. He rolled his shoulders back and gazed idly out the windshield of his car. He took several deep breaths to steady himself. Adam still wasn't there.

Anxiety needled into his chest. Was he coming? He wasn't expecting Ronan to come to him, was he? Jesus, had he been caught trying to sneak out? Fuck.  _Fuck._

Ronan whipped his head around to the direction of the trailers. He saw a figure in the dark, tall and slim, making its way toward his car.

His heart dropped into his stomach. He turned back around. Frantically, he grabbed for his phone again. He pressed arbitrarily at spots on the screen, scrolling back and forth between pages, anything to focus his attention elsewhere.

There was a soft knock on the passenger side window. Ronan looked to see a boy, muddled in darkness, peering in.

"You can just come in," Ronan said.

"Locked," Adam said in his head.

"Oh." Warmth flooding his cheeks, Ronan awkward reached over to press the unlock button on Adam's side.

 _Adam's side_. Jesus. This was actually happening.  _Adam_  was about to get into his car. Adam  _was_  getting into his car. Adam was  _in_  his car. Pulling his long legs in. Closing the door. Settling into the seat. Turning to look at him.

Ronan looked away, his eyes straight ahead.

"Hey," Adam said softly. Ronan turned the key in the ignition.

"You hungry?" Ronan asked, once they were on the road, a good distance away from where they'd started.

"Nah," Adam shook his head.

Ronan knew he was lying. He could feel the sore emptiness of Adam's stomach.

"I'm gonna stop and get something for myself," Ronan said. "If that's okay with you."

"Of course," Adam replied.

So, this was awful.

He thought maybe once he got Adam alone like this, everything might just fall perfectly into place. But this was torture. Like, Great Aunt Deidre's On The Phone Come Say Hello torture. It was uncomfortable, feeling Adam this close. Like, physically close. He could literally feel his body heat, his arm was in dangerously prime grazing territory of his own. He thought it would feel comforting, sharing close space with the person he'd shared headspace with since he was a child. Instead he just felt like he was trying not to touch a stranger on a cramped bus.

"You, uh," Ronan tried while they were stopped in the line at a fast food place. "You sure you don't want anything?"

Adam nodded. "I'm fine."

Ronan ordered himself an unseemly amount of chicken nuggets, complete with a large fry and coke. He drove over to the nearly empty parking lot of the strip mall across the street and parked.

"Dude," he said, biting into his fifth chicken nugget. "There's no way I can finish all this."

Adam chuckled at that and Ronan's stomach did an embarrassing, albeit thankfully silent, thing.

"Why did you order so much?" Adam eyed him dubiously.

"I was hungry," Ronan shrugged. "But I always get full so fast. Sucks. Here." He tossed the barely touched carton of french fries into Adam's lap.

"You could just save them for later," Adam suggested, eyeing the hot food in his lap like it was flesh-eating bacteria.

Ronan scoffed. "They're fuckin' useless once they get cold."

"True," Adam mused, gingerly plucking a single fry from his lap and almost ceremoniously bring it up to his mouth. Ronan worked hard to pretend not to be watching him. Ronan could've sworn an entire five minutes had passed before Adam had chewed up and swallowed the goddamn thing.

"You ever had the spicy nuggets?" Ronan asked while Adam nibbled his way through his fourth fry.

Adam shook his head.

"They're really good," Ronan said. He picked one up and held it out to Adam.

Adam shook his head again.

"You gotta fucking try it," Ronan insisted. "Noah and Gansey think they're disgusting and I need at least one other person to prove I'm not crazy."

"I think I'm probably the last person for that job," Adam said, but he took the chicken nugget from Ronan and actually managed to take a bite of it without the solemn reverence of taking the Holy Communion.

"Well?" Ronan asked.

"It's not bad," Adam shrugged as he chewed.

"Not bad?" Ronan raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "You clearly need to try again."

Adam laughed as Ronan handed him another nugget.

"Okay," Adam said once he'd finished. "I guess they're pretty good."

"Hot though," he added a second later. "Ugh. Making my mouth dry."

"Here," Ronan held his large coke out to Adam. He expected Adam to balk at the offering, but to his surprise Adam leaned in and took a sip from it.

"Thanks," he said.

Ronan shrugged, suddenly incredibly thirsty. It would be weird to take a drink right after Adam, though. He set the large styrofoam cup back into the car's cupholder and swallowed the spit culminating in his mouth instead.

"Here," Ronan said, passing the cardboard box of chicken nuggets to Adam. "You finish 'em. I'm full."

Adam hemmed and hawed about not being hungry again but he accepted the nuggets and slowly but surely consumed the last three and a half that were left.

"Better than them going to waste," Ronan said, needing to fill the uncomfortable silence that had fallen.

"Mm," Adam nodded.

This was still awful. In all the years he'd known Adam, there'd never been anything  _uncomfortable_  between the two of them.

Well, except for that...one time. He shook the thought off as quickly as it had come. Definitely not something he should be thinking about right now.

Even if there wasn't anything to say, just having Adam close was its own form of familiar comfort. They could go hours without speaking, it was never awkward. It was nice. It was Ronan's favorite ways to pass the time, actually. Curled up in bed, or spread out on a patch of grass outside, feeling Adam's close and steady presence, not talking, just breathing, just being quiet.

"So," Adam finally said, "Why are you doing this?"

Ronan's face twitched. "Doing what?"

"Asking to meet up all of a sudden," Adam replied. "You must want something."

"If it's about the connection," Adam went on before Ronan could begin to formulate a response, "I still don't know how to get rid of it. But whatever you've been doing seems to be working on your end, I guess."

"I just," Ronan's brain was still stuck on the first question. "I just wanted to see you."

Adam scoffed in a way that made Ronan's stomach turn. He could remember all the times in his life Adam had been mad at him, or rather, he remembered the way Adam being mad at him made him feel. Anxious, nauseous, miserable. Having Adam physically here in front of him just amplified that to a dizzying degree.

"Wanted to see me," Adam repeatedly bitterly. "Right. You can't even stand to look at me for more than, like, a second." The observation took Ronan by complete surprise.

"That's...not true," he said.

"You look everywhere  _but_  at me," Adam insisted. "Like you're afraid I'm gonna burn your eyes out or something."

This time it was Ronan's turn to scoff humorlessly. "Maybe I am."

Adam didn't say anything. More horrible silence settled over them.

"I," Ronan finally said, still staring straight ahead. "I saw you the other night. At Nino's."

"Yeah," Adam said, taking the words as a challenge. "So, what?"

"Well I just thought it was kind of weird," Ronan said. "I could, you know, feel you. But you couldn't feel me. You didn't know I was there."

"What are you talking about?" Adam sounded confused. "I knew you were there. I saw you."

"Oh," Ronan was confused now, too. "Well...I...you didn't say anything."

"Why the fuck would I have said anything?" Ronan could feel Adam's temper flaring. "You told me to stay the fuck away from you so I did. And then you got your friend to tell me to stay away, just in case I didn't get the message the first time."

"Is that what this is about?" Adam was on the rampage now. "You can't just, like, forbid me from going to random places in town because we might run into each other."

"Adam," Ronan said. "All  _this_  is about is me being fucking worried about you. I...wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine," Adam said. But Ronan could feel inside him. So much anger and hurt. Fear and confusion.

 _Yeah_ , he wanted to say,  _fucking same._

"If that's all you needed, you can take me back home."

"Why did you come?" Ronan asked. "If you're so fucking pissed at me."

Adam seethed silently in his seat. Finally he said, "I don't know."

A beat followed. "I guess I wasn't thinking. I hadn't had the best night and, then you were  _there_ , and I just. Wanted to see you, too. I guess."

At last they were getting somewhere. Stripping down all this bullshit that had been built up from not talking for so long. Obviously Adam was upset. Okay. So, that was unexpected. But. He could fix that. He could fix everything between them. Ronan realized at once that the main problem here was due to the fact that he'd fucked up big time. Adam was guarded, withdrawn, he didn't trust him. It hurt. But, Ronan didn't have anyone other than himself to blame. He'd messed things up but he could make it right.

"Look," he said. "When I saw you at Nino's, the first day of school, I mean...I freaked out. I didn't know what was happening. If it was real or if I was going crazy or...what. I didn't know what to do."

"I was scared," he went on when Adam said nothing. "I was really scared, Adam. I, fuck, I still am."

"Yeah?" Adam said, "Well, so was I. I was scared out of my fucking mind. And you were completely shutting me out. I didn't know what to do. I didn't understand what was happening. I didn't understand what I'd done so wrong to make you react the way you did. Eventually I just had to assume you didn't want anything to do with me just because...I don't know...because you just didn't want  _me_. Do you have any idea what that feels like?"

"Um," Ronan said, feeling his own blood beginning to boil. "Yeah,  _obviously_ , I do."

"Oh, fuck that," Adam didn't miss a beat. "That's not even close to the same thing. I told you what I was doing. And why I was doing it. You know all I was doing was trying to fucking protect you."

"Yeah, but you still fucking left me, and it still—"

"Jesus," Adam scoffed. "Are we really having this conversation again? How many times have I apologized for that? And how many times have you—wait. Is that what this has been? You getting some kind of fucking revenge or something?"

"No!" Ronan hit the steering wheel in frustration. "Jesus Christ, Adam. No. It's got nothing to do with that. I know I messed up, okay? I was scared and I didn't know what the fuck to do so I just pushed you away because I...I couldn't fucking deal with it."

"If that's true," Adam said, "then you could have just told me that. I reached out to you again and again and you ignored me. If you just needed space to clear your head and process what was happening, you know I would have happily backed off and let you come to me when you were ready. But you didn't do that. You ignored me. You blocked me out. You turned your friends against me. You made me feel like shit, like I was nothing to you. Like—" Adam cut himself off abruptly. "Whatever. It doesn't matter."

"It's not just that," Ronan shook his head, misery sinking into his gut. "It's not just that I was scared. It was more than that. It was…" Ronan paused. He really didn't know how to say this. He'd hardly even let himself think it. But, it was the truth. The terrible truth.

"What?" Adam prompted, tone clipped.

"I was angry, too," Ronan said.

"At what?" Adam asked. "At me?"

Ronan shook his head again. "No. I mean, not at you personally. I was angry at the whole situation, because it wasn't fair."

"Ever since I was a kid," Ronan went on. "I had you. When I was sad, I had you. When I was scared, I had you. When I was angry or upset or bored or lonely, I had you. You were always there for me. Whenever I needed you. You existed just for me. I mean, not that you weren't your own person, but...you were in  _my_ head. Not anyone else's head. Mine. No one else could hear you but me. You were my own special secret thing that no one could ever take away from me. I mean, fuck, I thought I made you up. Like, you get that, right? But I didn't care. I didn't care that you weren't real because you made me feel good and I wanted you around. But if you  _were_ real, that meant none of that was true anymore. And that terrified me. And pissed me off. And broke my heart. It felt like I'd lost you all over again."

"That," Adam said, his voice completely devoid of all its previous righteous anger, "is ridiculous."

Ronan coughed out a rough laugh.

"How could you feel like you'd lost me?" Adam asked, "I'm literally  _right here_."

"Yeah, but you're a real fucking person. Like, fuck. Like, you don't live in my head. You don't need me. Hell, you might not even like me. Or want to be around me. The whole thing was such a goddamn mindfuck. And I thought I could just make it all go away. If I just stayed away from you and didn't talk to you and pretended you weren't there, I thought I could just...I don't fucking know." Ronan rubbed his hands over his face. "I don't know."

"So you're basically saying," Adam said, "that you don't want me to be real."

Ronan didn't say anything.

"That's why you don't like looking at me," Adam mused, seeming to take pleasure in his conjecture. "That's why you told me to stay away from you. And to not talk to your friends. You thought if you blocked me out and ignored me you could just pretend like I didn't exist."

"See, I had figured all that," Adam went on, "but I couldn't understand why. And it was driving me insane. But, I think I get it now."

"That's great news," Ronan deadpanned. "That makes one of us."

"Ronan," Adam said, softly. "Look at me."

"I'd rather not," Ronan replied.

Adam laughed and Ronan felt the lightness of it in his chest.

"Come on," Adam said. "Exposure therapy is scientifically proven to work. Look at me."

Ronan took a deep breath, what felt like his last, and turned to look at Adam.

He looked, well, the way Ronan remembered. Messy hair, the darkness of the car casting it the color of wet sand. High, protruding cheekbones. A low, severe looking mouth. Dark plum in color. His cheeks were dusted with freckles. His skin was tanned golden brown. Everything about him radiated warmth. Even the jewel toned blue of his eyes. He wasn't...handsome. Not the way a movie star was handsome. That was conventional, everyday beauty. Adam was stranger than that, but he  _was_  beautiful. In a puzzling sort of way. Like abstract art.

It occurred to Ronan, then, that all this time he'd been looking at Adam, that meant Adam had been looking at him, too. He felt insecure, exposed. What did Adam see when he looked at him?

"I can be both, you know." Adam said, and Ronan was worried he'd been too caught up in ogling him that he'd missed part of a conversation.

"What?"

"You don't want me to be real because you think that means I'm not yours anymore," Adam said, "but I can be both."

Ronan's entire body flooded with white hot embarrassment. "I, um, okay. " he coughed awkwardly. "And uh, I mean, same to you."

Adam smiled at him and the world righted itself quite easily, as if nothing had ever been amiss in the first place. Ronan smiled back.

"But I'm still mad at you," Adam's serene expression changed to one of feigned contempt. "Asshole."

"I guess that's fair," Ronan smirked lopsidedly. "And accurate."

"You really hurt me," Adam said, somewhere in between joking and serious.

"You hurt me first," Ronan shot back.

"Guess we're even, then."

"Guess so."

"I don't want to hurt you," Ronan added, completely serious now. "You know I don't. That the last thing I ever want to do."

"I know," Adam said, seeming to accept this. Then he unexpectedly brightened. "Hey, I want to try something."

"Try what?"

"Remember when we were little and you couldn't sleep,  _because you were scared_ ," Adam added with an impish smile that made Ronan's stomach clench. "And we used to play that game where we'd tried to match up our breathing. Until you fell back asleep. And it was weird, because when we got it to work it felt like we were, like, one person."

Ronan scoffed at the memory. They'd been weird kids. "Yes." He raised an eyebrow. "You want to try that again?"

"Kind of," Adam said. "Well, the same idea. But, different. Give me your hand."

Ronan's pulse hammered. He let Adam take his hand and pulled it toward himself. At first he thought Adam was going to make him touch the bruised spot on his ribs that he'd felt before and he felt bile threaten to rise in his throat. Instead Adam moved his hand up past that and placed it on his chest. Over his heart. Ronan could feel it thumping beneath the thick, scratchy material of his sweater.

Adam leaned in a little bit to reach over and place his hand over Ronan's chest in the same spot. Ronan already knew his own heart was pounding. He didn't really know where Adam was going with this. It occurred to him in that moment that Adam was touching him. Really, actually, physically touching him. And he was touching Adam. How many times had he imagined what this would be like? And now it was happening.

"Close your eyes," Adam instructed him gently. Ronan numbly complied.

 _Can you feel that?_  Adam's voice was in his head now. He could tell the difference.

What Ronan could feel was his own heart beating in his own chest. He felt Adam's heart beating into his hand. But. He also felt  _Adam's_  heart beating inside  _him_. Right along with his own heart. It was a disorienting sensation, the feeling of two hearts inside his chest, beating out of sync. He tried to slow his breathing, to match his heartbeat to Adam's. When it happened, Ronan let out a startled sound.

"Whoa," he breathed aloud.

 _Weird, huh?_ Adam mused inside his head.

Weird didn't begin to cover it. He could feel their tandem heartbeats throbbing throughout his entire body, through Adam's too. They were completely, utterly, open and exposed to each other. No, it wasn't even that. It was like they were fused together now, somehow. No longer two separate people or even a person at all. Just one breathing, living,  _thing_. He'd never felt this close to another person before. It wasn't possible, obviously. Except with Adam, it was. Adam, who was here,  _really here_. Adam, who was still  _his Adam_. Still wanted to be. Even though Ronan had fucked up and hurt him, even though nothing could be the same as it used to be. Adam wasn't going anywhere. Ronan felt the sureness of this like he'd felt nothing before. He could feel Adam's vibrant contentment. He liked this. Slow heat pooled pleasantly in Ronan's stomach. Tension tightened in his groin. He pulled back suddenly, blinking and shaking his head. Adam was blinking too, looking like he'd been splashed with a bucket of ice water.

"What?" Adam asked. "What's wrong?"

Ronan shrugged. "Too freaky."

Adam scoffed. "I thought it was nice. Like when we were kids."

Ronan rolled his eyes, finally looked away from Adam. For some reason his mind supplied him with the image of the girl he'd seen Adam with at Nino's and he wondered why Adam hadn't mentioned her. Was she his girlfriend or just a friend or what? The evidence he'd witnessed pointed to the former. Who was she? How did he know her? He needed to change the subject.

"So, are we okay?"

He felt that he knew, but he needed to hear it spoken out loud.

"Yes," Adam told him, "we're okay."

"Good." Ronan nodded once. He grabbed for his phone again, meaning to check the time, and frowned. "Oh," he said, taking in the twenty seven missed calls notification. "Fuck."

Adam's eyebrows shot up in mild alarm. "What?"

"Noah," Ronan realized with an agonized groan. "He must have found out I left. He didn't... _goddamn it_. He rang the Gansey Alarm."

"The Gansey Alarm?" Adam was clearly confused. "What does that mean?"

Ronan sighed heavily. "It means that my friends are paranoid, overbearing mothers. And that I'm about to get my ass chewed out. Unless," he looked at Adam expectantly.

"Unless what?" Adam looked uncertain. Ronan was already imagining the look of Noah and Gansey's faces when he strolled into Monmouth, unharmed, undrunk, and with Adam in tow. He'd be surprised if Gansey didn't swoon on the spot.

Ronan grinned wickedly at him. "You think I turned my friends against you?" With a scoff, he started the car. "Just wait." 


	5. Comforting Sounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I TOLD YOU HOOLIGANS I WOULD GET THIS UP ON MY BIRTHDAY AND WHAT DID I DO I PULLED THROUGH FOR ONCE IN MY MISERABLE LIFE GOT DIGGITY DAMN. 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to the amazing [yourladysansa](http://yourladysansa.tumblr.com) on tumblr who has been making the most [beautiful edits](http://yourladysansa.tumblr.com/tagged/just-to-be-quiet) for the story. check them out and send her some love. <3

_I don't feel alright_  
_In spite of these comforting sounds_  
_You make_  
_I don't feel alright_  
_Because you make promises_  
_That you break_

"[Comforting Sounds](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2wSU4adAbSc)" — Mew

 

There was nothing Adam hated more than the awkward fuzziness that lingered inside him after a fight with Ronan.

He'd gotten better at reining in his post-fight anxiety, especially after so many years with Ronan inside his head. He had to acclimate eventually. But some things were simply innate. And in Adam's experience, fights never really _ended_. They just rolled over and over in waves. But Ronan, he didn't fight like anything Adam knew. He was sensitive and confrontational, he lashed out when he felt threatened or vulnerable. He could be vicious with his words, he knew what buttons to push, what stitch to pull, to cause maximum damage.

But.

He wasn't cruel for the sake of it. If he was mad, there was a reason. Sometimes it took awhile to get to the bottom of that reason, but they always did. Fighting, to Ronan, was not a circle. It had a beginning and an end. And once it was over, it was _over_. Settled. Sorted. Done. Moved on from. Forgotten.

Adam didn't understand that. That was not how fights went down in the Parrish household. Someone was always angry, always suspicious, always put out for some reason or another, always on edge and ready tip over. But the tipping was a perpetual state of being. Nothing was ever really resolved. Everything was always hanging in some precarious balance that made no sense, but was all he knew. He'd learned from an abominably young age to be cautious, to be afraid.

So it was unsettling, to say the least, to have this person inside his head. This angry matchstick of a boy, who was as quick to light as he was to extinguish. Who didn't mentally hoard all Adam's past transgressions to hurl at him when he wasn't prepared. Who forgave him when he did something wrong. Who meant it when he said he was sorry.

Even so, it was hard for Adam to believe a fight was really over, that there weren't any more blows to dodge.

Their first noteworthy fight happened when Adam was thirteen years old.

The two of them had been bickering relentlessly since they'd tumbled headfirst into each other's lives, but _this_ fight was different. It was big, and mean, and personal.

And stupid.

It was the sort of fight that had not much to do with anything reasonable but a lot to do with the fact that Adam was thirteen.

Thirteen hadn't been a great year.

There was a lot of controversy around the number itself. In books and movies it was either heralded as a sign of good fortune or avoided as some kind of numeric angel of death. Lucky or Unlucky. No one seemed to be able to decide.

Except Adam, of course. The number had been nothing but trouble for him since the day he'd turned it.

He'd always wondered what being a teenager would feel like. If he'd feel more mature, more intelligent, more powerful. He wondered if school would be different. Since his birthday had been in July that meant he'd be starting the seventh grade with his new age. Maybe this new era of being would please his parents. Maybe things would be easier. Better. Looking back, he didn't know why he ever thought that. But he had. He really had.

School had, if anything, gotten worse. The workload was easy enough, though it was getting harder to find ways to access a computer. More and more teachers were only accepting typed assignments. He was becoming a nearly permanent fixture at the library. At least it gave him a reason to be away from home for awhile. His father seemed to be angrier than ever. And the only thing Adam had gotten better at was making him angry.

He'd been lying in bed one miserable afternoon, sporting the evidence of this new development in the form of a split lip and swollen cheek when he pushed himself into the void of his mind, reaching for Ronan. He hadn't heard from him at all today. Grudgingly, he'd missed him. And he wanted him, now, to make this day better. Turn it around with a funny story about a prank he'd played on his older brother or some poor kid at his school or whoever else happened to be caught in Ronan's crosshairs for the time being.

It didn't take a long time for Adam to find himself at the edge of Ronan's consciousness. He was in a good mood, wherever he was. Adam could feel it. Adam waited for that to leak into him, to raise his own spirits, but there was something _different_ about it. It was out of reach and completely separate. This was odd. Even more odd, Ronan didn't seem to notice Adam was there. He said nothing to acknowledge his presence.

Adam lingered around the fringes of what he could feel of Ronan for what _felt_ like hours until he finally couldn't take another second of the annoyance and tugged at Ronan with his mind.

 _Yeah?_ Ronan said distractedly.

 _What are you doing?_ Adam asked, trying to sound casual and only moderately interested to know the answer.

 _Nothing,_ was Ronan's easy reply. _Just hanging out._

 _I've been trying to talk to you,_ Adam told him, now unconcerned with keeping up a feigned nonchalance.

 _Oh, sorry,_ Ronan hummed. _I've been with my friends._

Friends. Yes. Ronan had those now. Thirteen, it seemed, had been a more fortuitous year for the boy who lived inside his head than it had for him. Adam knew this fact must be proof of only the deepest form of masochism, but he wasn't quite in the business of taking himself apart and psychoanalyzing the pieces just yet, so he tried not to think about it too much.

Adam didn't know too much about the people Ronan had befriended. He knew that they were boys, and there were two of them. It seemed to be a hard thing to swallow for the both of them, and Ronan always spoke of them with the oddest air of mysticism in his voice, like somehow they were harder to believe in than the boy who he talked to in his head.

 _What's up?_ Ronan was asking him now. _What do you need?_

Adam's mood soured further. He couldn't explain it, but Ronan's presence in his mind was suddenly the worst thing and he wanted to shove him out of his head completely. He didn't want to feel him. His buzzing excitement was a tangy, rotten orange on Adam's tongue.

 _Nothing_ , Adam answered. He curled into himself where he lay in his bed, hoping to somehow pull away from Ronan enough that the other boy couldn't reach him.

Of course that didn't happen. In fact Ronan only sidled himself closer, waiting.

Adam bristled, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Something bitter coursed through his veins, hot and searing.

 _Adam?_ Ronan prompted. And again when Adam said nothing. _Adam?_ He could feel Ronan pushing himself closer, pulling Adam closer to him. And in that moment Adam hated it. He just hated it.

 _Can you stop?_ Adam shoved him off as best he could.

 _What the hell's wrong with you?_ Adam could feel Ronan's affronted confusion.

 _Nothing_ , Adam said, unexpectedly softening at the hurt he felt in Ronan's voice. _Bad day._

 _Oh,_ Ronan said. _That sucks._ And Adam's stomach turned. He could feel Ronan's annoyance, his impatience at this whole situation. It was clear that Ronan wanted nothing to do than to go back to friends. He didn't want to be dealing with Adam's bad mood right now.

 _Can we talk later?_ Ronan asked him. _It's kinda hard to talk to people in real life and in my head at the same time._

Adam had answered by curling back into himself, as far away from Ronan as he could get. He'd expected for Ronan stay away for awhile. But Adam didn't think it had even been a full half hour before Ronan was barreling back into his head.

 _Hey_ , His voice was brisk and light and casual. _I'm here._ Adam wanted to break something. He'd been annoyed at Ronan more times than he could count but he'd never had a visceral reaction such as this before. It scared him a little. And that fear embarrassed him. And it all just swirled into more and more anger. He tried to make sense of it, beat it out himself with logic, but his skin was hot and his face was sore and Ronan was just making everything worse.

 _I don't_ , Adam said slowly, _really want to talk right now._

 _You, like,_ _ **just**_ _said you wanted to talk to me._ Ronan's scoff vibrated inside him, making him unbearably furious. His fists were curling in his sheets. He could feel his jaw clenching.

 _Well, now I don't._ Adam kept his tone clipped, but he was barely keeping his rage simmering underneath it.

Ronan was becoming upset. _Why are you so mad at me all of a sudden?_

I'm not, Adam wanted to say. But surely Ronan could _feel_ the firestorm that was billowing in Adam's chest. And that made him angry, too.

It seemed Adam's father wasn't the only one who'd gotten angrier this year.

Adam hated being angry.

He hated the way it just flared up inside him out of nowhere. He hated not knowing to do with it. He tried _keeping_ it inside, willing it to go away. But it never did, not really. Just piled up on top of itself, filling him, until Adam could sometimes feel his entire body shaking with it. It couldn't just live inside him forever. It had to go somewhere. But Adam was afraid of what would happen once he let it out. He didn't want to be— He didn't want to hurt anyone. But he did. Sometimes. Sometimes, he did.

 _Please,_ Adam was trying and failing to contain the boiling of his blood. _Just leave me alone._

 _What is your problem?_ Ronan wanted to know. _First you wanna talk to me, now you're acting like I'm bothering you._

 _You are,_ Adam snapped coldly. It was such a childish thing to say, obvious in its falseness. It had just sort of fallen out of his mouth. He didn't want to be seen like this, certainly didn't want it to be _felt_. His shame only fueled the flames in his gut. And he had no choice but to continue. _You're always bothering me._

 _You're the one bothering me!_ Ronan's laugh was sharp and unkind. He was mirroring some of that fire back at Adam now. _**You're**_ _the one who showed up in_ _ **my**_ _head, uninvited, whining for me to talk to you. Sorry that I was actually busy, for once, not that you'd know what that's like._

 _What is that supposed to mean?_ Adam knew what it meant. His heart squelched in his chest at the painful truth of it.

 _It's no wonder you haven't got any friends,_ Ronan went on heatedly, _maybe it's because you're such a moody headcase. God._

There were things about every person that were apparent, but strictly unmentionable. A crooked tooth they didn't like to smile with, an unsightly birthmark on their face. A person knew that this unfortunate thing did not go unnoticed, especially by those closest to them. But the deliberate lack of acknowledgement aided in the comforting art of self-delusion. _Maybe no one really sees it, after all._

Adam's unwavering pariah status among his peers was one of those things. Ronan knew inside of Adam, knew how lonely he was, how baffled he was at the concept of even beginning to think about approaching another human being with friendship in mind. And Adam knew he knew all of that, but Ronan never mentioned it. Adam pretended to be content in his solitude, and Ronan let him. To the point where Adam nearly thought he sold the act altogether, until now.

Adam grasped for something in his arsenal of potential comebacks, the worst thing he could think of, anything to even the playing field. There wasn't much he could fault Ronan with. He was a confident, outgoing person. He was tough, strong. He was the kind of boy people knew not to mess with. He came from money. His family seemed pretty normal. Adam had this gut feeling he probably came from good breeding, too. There really wasn't anything he could throw in his face.

 _You should go back to your friends_ , Adam finally said. He detached his voice from any kind of detectable emotion. _I'm sure they care much more about what you have to say than I do._

 _Fine, I will._ Ronan's complacency chafed his insides. _At least I_ _ **have**_ _people who care about me._

Adam's chest caved. _That_ went beyond the basic level of everyday unmentionables. _That_ wasn't an obvious physical or social defect. _That_ was a secret Adam knew he kept well hidden. Ronan didn't know the state of Adam's home life, his relationship with his parents. He didn't know Adam spent the better part of days trying to make sense of it, what was so wrong with him, what was so punishable, and if he'd ever find a way to make it stop. How to fix his faulty wiring. Maybe it was his unpleasantly unstable disposition, as Ronan had previously suggested. Maybe he just had that effect on people. There was an unidentified component of Adam Parrish that made people angry, violent, and worst of all, indifferent. Whether or not it was something that could be fixed, Adam was simply unlikeable. His parents were no exception to this rule. In fact, they _were_ the rule.

But Ronan didn't know all that. Not the whole of it. Not the specific, miserable truth. He'd taken a stab in the dark and severed right through a vital organ. It bled the fight out of Adam. He licked shamefully at his split lip. Crusty and tangy with dried blood. He wondered if Ronan could feel that. Part of him wanted him to. Part of him wanted Ronan to know what had happened. But then where would they be? The last thing he wanted was Ronan's pity. They were already growing apart from each other. Ronan had a life now, friends. Things to do. If Ronan knew how pathetic Adam's life really was, he'd either run as far away as he could in the opposite direction, or stick around because he felt sorry for him.

Adam didn't need anyone to feel sorry for him. He didn't need anyone, period. Ronan was right. He didn't have anyone that cared about him. But he'd survived thirteen years of it so far. Ronan might have been the closest thing he'd ever had to a friend, but he didn't need him. He'd never even asked for him in the first place. He was the one who'd been showing up people's heads uninvited, if they really wanted to go there. Ronan probably wasn't even a real person. Adam was probably just crazy. Making people up. Fighting with made up people. That's how crazy he probably was.

Adam closed his eyes and rolled over in bed. He made no move to pull himself away from Ronan, who he could still feel at the back of his mind. He just let him sit there and tick. Ronan was all wound up, waiting for Adam to say something back. He wanted to fight this out, as he always did. But Adam didn't have the energy.

 _Aren't you going to say something?_ Ronan's voice was unexpectedly shaky in his head. His emotions were jumbling but Adam wasn't in the mood to pick them apart and make sense of them. Ronan was only angry because he'd gotten himself that way. Just like Adam had no one to blame for his own anger. Adam didn't want anything to do with this anymore. He was tired. He said nothing in response, of course, until Ronan got tired of waiting and left.

He'd thought that fight had been the end of it. Finally, things had gone wrong enough to damage his relationship with Ronan permanently. They didn't speak after that. He knew Ronan was probably just pissed Adam had refused to keep fighting with him until he was done, but Adam didn't care. Ronan had seen too much, felt too much, knew too much about him. It was uncomfortable, he didn't like so much of himself being in the hands of another person. If that's what friendship was, then he really was better off without it.

 

* * *

 

 

He could still feel Ronan every once and awhile at the back of his mind but he'd quickly disappear again. The connection between them had a mind of its own, sometimes. But they could just as easily ignore it if they really tried. And they did, for about a week. It probably would have gone on for much longer than that, stubborn as they both were, if the mercurial connection between them hadn't woke Adam up in the middle of the night, sweating and sick with fear. Guilt. Shame. His whole body hurt and he felt inexplicably like crying. There was something disorienting and off about the feelings. They'd exploded inside him from absolutely nowhere. Even more alarming, he felt a heavy wetness underneath him, soaking his underwear and sticking to his thighs. With a horrified jolt he threw back the covers of his bed, his mind already whirring with what the consequences were going to be for this, only to find that there was no damning evidence to be seen — or felt. The bed and his clothes were dry. He sat there, for a moment, completely at a loss for what had just happened to him. He'd felt...something. But it wasn't...his.

With a weighty smack to the chest, he realized what had happened. He took a deep breath and reached out.

 _Ronan?_ he called out as softly as he could manage. He didn't really know what to follow that up with. _Are you...okay?_

 _Did you…?_ Adam didn't really know how ask. Perhaps he shouldn't. He tried again for, _are you okay?_

 _Fine,_ Ronan's reply was quiet and unexpectedly timid. _I'm fine. I...I'm sorry I woke you up._

He felt another wave of nausea roll over him. Ronan's. He was more awake now and it wasn't hard for him to put the pieces together. Ronan must have had a nightmare. He had those often. Adam wasn't unaccustomed to being jolted awake in the middle of the night, Ronan's delirious fear slicing into him involuntarily. He didn't mind it. Not really. He never got much sleep, anyway. At least keeping Ronan company when was too scared to go back to sleep gave him something to do.

 _It's okay,_ Adam told him. It really was the least of his worries at the moment. _Um. Bad dream?_

He was worried. He'd never felt Ronan like this before. He knew the nightmares were a lot more dark and and twisted than your average showing up to school naked or falling from a high building. They really did a number on Ronan. Adam was used to his fear, his exhaustion. This was different. Ronan felt more hollowed out than anything else. It was like something had _happened_. Something real. Something bad.

 _I know you can feel it_ , Ronan's tone took on a sharpness that while unpleasant was at least preferable to the unfamiliar emptiness that was beginning to make Adam feel sick. _Go on. Say it._

 _I don't know what you mean,_ Adam lied out of habit. _Say what?_

 _That I pissed the bed like a fucking baby,_ Ronan scoffed, an awful laugh rolling through him. Adam felt him sniff hard and swallow down a thick lump of air. _Jesus._

 _I mean,_ Adam said, swallowing down the lump in his own throat, _it happens._

Ronan scoffed again, but there was a fragility to it that unsettled Adam. Everything about Ronan was shaking, about to shatter. Something was really wrong.

It was strange. He was _worried_ about Ronan and though he remembered how angry he'd been just a few days before, the concern was much stronger. It wasn't even a conscience thing. It wasn't a decision he had to make. The anger just mattered less than Ronan being okay.

He supposed he was different from his father, in that way. He didn't recall a time his father had ever asked him if he was okay. After a fight or otherwise. He didn't seem to care if Adam was okay or not. The anger mattered more. His mother never asked, either, for the record. She didn't say much of anything, besides chiding him about winding his father up, reminding him not to get in his way. Maybe that was a way of telling Adam that he mattered. Maybe it wasn't. He didn't really know what mattered to her.

But what mattered to Adam, right now, was Ronan. And that was the only thing worth thinking about.

 _What happened in the dream?_ Adam asked him.

Ronan sniffed again, hard and resolute. Adam wasn't sure if he had been crying or was trying very hard not to start crying. Either way, the feeling of it tore at him. He wished he could be there with Ronan, help him strip his ruined sheets off his bed and wrap his arms around him to use for warmth instead. He didn't quite know how to articulate that and he hoped Ronan could just feel it. The way they always just _felt._

 _Tell me,_ Adam pressed softly. _It'll make it better._

Ronan didn't usually like to talk about what his nightmares consisted of, but sometimes Adam could weasel a few details out of him here and there. He'd proposed to Ronan that it might make them seem less scary, give them less power, if he talked about them. He wasn't sure if that ever really worked, but it was always worth a try.

Adam expected him to balk at the words, insist he was fine again, tell Adam to leave him alone. But instead he felt a mournful unhinging in his chest and Ronan said, _you were mad at me._

Adam was surprised. Was that why Ronan was so upset?

 _I,_ Adam paused, still a bit thrown. _Look, about the other day—_

 _No,_ Ronan stopped him before he could stumble out an awkward apology. _In my dream. You were mad at me._ Ronan sounded so pitiful. With all the dark and scary things his dreams usually churned out, Adam couldn't understand why a dream about their fight had bothered him so much.

 _You told me you hated me,_ Ronan went on miserably. _Because I was— and I kept trying to explain, to tell you….that I wouldn't...I would never...do anything to—but you didn't care. You said it was disgusting, I was disgusting. You said we couldn't be friends anymore._

Adam almost wanted to laugh at the thought of Ronan dreaming of him so dramatically, but he remembered how upset Ronan was and stifled the urge.

He cleared his throat and said, _Well, I'm not mad. And I don't hate you._ _I was just...having a bad day. Like I said._

There was of course the matter of the things Ronan had said to Adam, and how much they had hurt, but it didn't seem like the best time to bring that up. Adam knew when Ronan was sorry. Adam thought maybe that was why the dream had upset him so much, because it didn't make much sense otherwise.

 _That's not what I mean,_ Ronan sighed. _That's not what—never mind._ He seemed to shake himself of the dark cloud that had been fogging him up ever since he'd brought up the nightmare. _It doesn't matter. It was just a dream._

 _Exactly,_ Adam agreed, glad to feel Ronan coming back to his usual self. They let a long silence pass, the empty space soothing the tension between them. Adam had almost drifted back to sleep when Ronan said,

_What happened?_

_Mm?_ Adam mumbled, blinking himself alert.

 _Why were you having a bad day?_ Ronan asked. _You never told me._

 _Oh._ Adam closed his eyes again. _It was nothing._

 _Obviously it wasn't nothing,_ Ronan bristled at his brush-off. _Tell me._

Now it was Adam's turn to sigh. He wanted to tell him, surprisingly. A big part of him wanted to tell him everything. How bad it was. How true his words had been. But he couldn't. He just couldn't do it. The words wouldn't form in his brain.

 _I'm sorry I was mean to you_ , Ronan murmured when it became clear Adam wasn't going to speak.

Adam shrugged off the apology like he hadn't been waiting for it. _I was mean first._

 _But you were having a bad day,_ Ronan reminded him. _And I was just...You were so mad at me and I didn't know why because I didn't think I did anything to make you mad at me. And it was hurting my feelings and it wasn't_ _ **fair**_ _and I...wanted to hurt your feelings, too._

 _But that's not good,_ Ronan added before Adam could reply. _That's mean. And I'm sorry._

 _Me too,_ Adam mumbled. He wasn't good at _I'm sorry_. He didn't even like hearing it. In his experience, those two words never did him any good. How many times had he sobbed them over and over to the relentless pounding of his father's fists? They were pointless letters strung together into useless sounds and the rusty taste of them burned his throat.

 _I didn't mean what I said_ , Ronan continued, and Adam grit his teeth, wishing he'd just drop it. But he never could. He had to see the fight out to its end. Adam could feel that awful black sludge beginning to bubble in his stomach. He squashed it down quick, and hard. Ronan had had a tough night. If he wanted to keep talking about this until he'd settled the matter in his own head, Adam could deal with that.

 _About you...not having…_ Ronan paused. _I didn't mean it. Okay?_

Adam scoffed softly. _Whatever. It's true._

 _No, it's not._ Ronan was adamant. _I'm your friend. And I—care about you. A lot._

 _Okay,_ Adam said. He didn't know what else to say.

 _So, do you forgive me?_ Of course he needed to hear Adam say it. That's just how Ronan was. Adam really, really wanted it to just be over and done with, but if this is what would make him feel better, it was the least he could do.

 _Yeah_ , Adam told him. _It's okay._ And just because he was feeling extra generous, _I'm sorry Dream-Adam was so mean to you. What a dickbag._

Soft, tentative amusement swelled in Adam's chest. Ronan's. He said ruefully, _I don't know. Maybe he had good reason to be._

 _No way,_ Adam assured him. _There's nothing you could ever do to make me hate you._

It was a grand statement to make, and Adam nearly regretted saying it. He wasn't entirely sure if he meant it. But everything about Ronan tangibly relaxed after that. And the relief he felt practically radiating from Ronan told him it was the right thing to say. He settled into Ronan's presence and Ronan settled into him. They held eachother in a bubble of comfortable silence again.

 _I wish you could be here_ , Ronan croaked, his voice scratchy with fatigue. _Really be here._

 _I know,_ Adam said _, me too._

 _I hated not talking to you._ Ronan confessed. _I hated you being mad at me._

 _Me too,_ Adam said again.

 _Promise me we'll always be friends,_ Ronan demanded sleepily, childishly. _Even if we fight or get mad at each other again. I don't know what I'd do without you._

 _You have other friends,_ Adam reminded him. He didn't mean it to come off accusatory or bitter. It was just the truth.

 _Yeah,_ Ronan said, _but you're home._ Adam didn't think it made very much sense.

 _Okay,_ he said, anyway. _I promise._

 

* * *

 

"Jesus fucking…" Ronan muttered down at his phone as it pinged bright white again. He jerked the car to a halt and answered the call.

" _What_?" There was a pause as whoever was on the other line said something.

"No," Ronan replied. "I was fucking getting some goddamn food." Another pause. "No." A longer pause. "I'm here — _Here_ — Yes, here as in home — Oh my god, _I said no_. Fuck. I'll be up in a second. Bye."

 _Don't fucking look at me like that_ , Ronan said to Adam as he shoved his phone into his jacket pocket, his head still turned away from him.

Adam smirked. With that, any residual awkward fuzziness was gone. Adam could tell by the tone of Ronan's voice in his head. The way it filled him up with affectionate, familiar warmth. The fight was definitely over. There was no lasting bitterness, nothing left unsaid to fester into toxic resentment. Adam could breathe.

"Are you sure this is okay?" he asked. "I mean, your friends won't be mad?"

Ronan looked at him like he'd grown another head. "Come on," he said, opening the driver's side door and stepping out of the car.

Adam had a weird feeling about this. For a few reasons. For one thing, Ronan's friends didn't seem to be in the best of moods right now. Ronan had apparently disappeared without telling them he was leaving or where he was going and he'd worried them when they'd found him gone. And another thing, Adam knew the boys must have complicated feelings about him to begin with, and _this_ didn't really seem like the best time to be getting reacquainted with them. They'd probably think the whole secret late night rendezvous was Adam's idea. They probably didn't trust him.

And mostly, stepping inside Monmouth Manufacturing was like walking through a brick wall to get to a magical train platform or crossing the bridge to Terabithia. It was the stuff of fairytales, of childhood fantasy. A giant abandoned manufacturing building that three mysterious boys lived in together. It was just the kind of ridiculous thing a lonely, bored child would make up. It was ridiculous in that way that was technically possible but ultimately stupid. And it was real.

"Ronan," Gansey pounced on the two of them before they'd even fully made it through the door. "You can't just leave like that, without telling us. And poor Noah, my God, he's been just sick about this. You know how he—" he stopped abruptly, taking notice of Adam and blinking owlishly at him.

He looked to Ronan for some kind of explanation.

"Forgive me, Stepmother," Ronan drawled sarcastically. He narrowed his eyes. "Where's Noah?"

"I lied and told him I'd gotten ahold of you half an hour ago to calm him down. I knew you wouldn't have done that to Noah. Not again. But I knew there wasn't going to be any sign from you for awhile and there wasn't any sense in Noah tearing himself apart over it. He went back to bed."

Ronan nodded noncommittally, though he did look a little green around the gills. It seemed upsetting Noah wasn't something he took pride in.

"You could have at least let us know you were alright."

Ronan shrugged. "Wasn't looking at my phone."

Gansey made an exasperated noise.

"Sorry," Adam offered quickly. "I didn't know you guys had been trying to get ahold of him."

"Oh," Gansey startled at Adam's voice, like he'd just remembered he was there. "Oh, no. It's not your fault." He plastered on a polite, but surprisingly genuine smile. "I...I'm glad he was with you."

Gansey was in navy blue sweatpants and a light gray t shirt with the Aglionby Rowing Team's logo emblazoned across the front. Most notably, he was wearing a pair of simple looking but probably nauseatingly expensive wire-framed glasses. He'd sort of imagined Gansey as a living Ken doll, always in the same perfectly pressed outfit and glued in place hair. It was odd to see him in such a state of undress. Gansey sighed and carded a hand through his loose, ungelled hair and looked around their living space unpleasantly. "Excuse the mess," he said. "If I'd known you were coming I would have picked up a bit."

Adam couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

"Do you want something to drink?" Gansey looked to Adam expectantly, pressing his hands together in an adorably old man sort of way.

Adam shook his head.

"Are you hungry?" Gansey tried again.

"We just ate, actually," Adam said. "But thank you."

Ronan cut him a narrow eyed look. Adam cut him one back.

"I'm gonna go check on Noah," he announced, and Adam's insides heated, panicked at the thought of being left alone with Sleepytime Gansey™, who he had no idea what to say to.

When Ronan had stomped off toward what Adam could only assume was Noah's bedroom, Gansey cleared his throat.

"I really am glad," he said with a smaller, more intimate smile, "that Ronan was with you."

Adam nodded awkwardly.

"I knew he'd come around," Gansey continued, a trace of smugness mixing with his relief. "He just acts out when he's uncertain about something. But once he settles down, he usually comes to the right decision. About the things that matter, at least."

"Yeah," Adam said, his face melting into a smile of his own. "I know."

"Yes," Gansey nodded, raising a hand to his forehand and tapping it, in a _duh_ gesture. "I suppose you do."

Adam crossed his arms and they stood in tingling silence for a moment. Finally Gansey said, "you should go say hello to Noah, if you want." Adam cringed and looked toward where Ronan had stalked off hesitantly.

"I know he'd like that," Gansey added. "He really didn't take shutting you out well. It's not easy for him, to treat people badly."

"Oh," Adam's cheeks warmed. "It's not...I mean, you guys didn't…" he coughed. "It's fine."

Weighing the options of walking into a near-stranger's bedroom unannounced or staying and listening to Gansey fumble through an uncomfortable apology that Adam both desperately wanted and vehemently opposed, he nodded once and followed the direction he'd seen Ronan go in.

The door that was slightly ajar seemed to be the most likely one. He pressed it inward further and startled to find Ronan and Noah rustling around on the bed. Ronan had Noah pinned on his stomach underneath him, holding his arms twisted behind his back.

"Um," Adam said, blinking. "Do you need some help?"

"Nah," Noah panted, breaking into a bright smile, which looked painful at the angle his head was wrenched in. "This is just how he shows his love."

Ronan grunted and twisted one of Noah's arms harder. He let out a delighted yelp and wriggled out of Ronan's grasp. He maneuvered up in bed and set his beaming teeth on Adam. "Hi."

"Hey," Adam said. "Nice room." The walls of Noah's bedroom were entirely plastered in music and movie posters. He had a large bookshelf, haphazardly stuffed to the brim, covered in stickers. A simple desk with textbooks and a sleek gaming laptop resting on top of it. It looked like something that had been constructed by a team of filmmakers, the perfect Teenage Boy's room.

"Thanks," Noah said, shoving at Ronan. "You can sleep in here if you want. I am a top notch cuddler."

"Fuck off," Ronan growled, an unexpected roll of embarrassment tumbling into Adam's stomach.

Noah rubbed at one of his eyes. He appeared to be totally naked save for a form fitting pair of boxer briefs and a black sweatband around his wrist. His elven blond hair was sticking up all over. His unapologetic unkempt was so...cute. It reminded him of the way Blue looked a few hours into a shift at Nino's, her eye makeup smudged and cheeks flushed, her springy dark hair revolting against her army of clips. Adam smiled, thinking of what Blue would have to say about all this.

With surprising tenderness, Ronan reached up to cup Noah's cheek and run his thumb along the oddly colored blotch that permanently smeared it. Adam didn't know what it was. An old burn or a birthmark, maybe. Noah made a soft contented sound and leaned into the touch. Adam couldn't help but smile at the sweetness of it. If Adam was the type of person who touched people easily, he wouldn't have minded taking Noah up on his offer. There was something so maddeningly _pure_ about him. So appallingly happy and good. That kind of thing usually annoyed Adam, but for some reason on Noah it seemed deserving.

"Alright?" Ronan asked. Noah nodded, eyes closed. Ronan stopped stroking his cheek and shoved his face down into his pillow. "Night, Czerny."

Noah mumbled out goodnights to the both of them and disappeared back under his mountain of blankets.

Ronan jerked his head toward the doorway and Adam followed him out.

"So, do you need to get home…" Ronan trailed off, scratching at his jaw.

"Um," Adam said, "What time is it?"

Ronan pulled out his phone to glance at it. "Four-ish," he said.

"I just need to be back before my parents wake up," Adam told him. "But that's not for a couple more hours, usually."

Ronan's jaw twitched but he nodded. "You wanna hang out for a bit, then?

"Sure," Adam said. "For a bit."

There wasn't much talking after that. Ronan silently led Adam into his bedroom, making no effort to explain anything about it. It was dark and Adam couldn't really see all that much. He'd always wondered what Ronan's room looked like. He doubted it would be anything like Noah's, or any other human's, for that matter. The darkness made sense, for the time being, however. When Ronan sat down on the edge of his bed Adam simply sat down next to him.

 _I'm glad you're here_ , Ronan said in his head.

 _Me too_ , Adam told him. Ronan sidled closer to him on the bed. Adam's heart was a kick drum in his chest. How many times had they wished and wished for this as boys? Just to be together, that's all they wanted. If only it were possible. And, it was. They were here now. They were here.

Adam wanted so much. He wanted to lean into Ronan the way Noah had, so simple and easy. He wanted to press his face into Ronan's shirt and get his smell all over him, to feel Ronan's arms around him, his warm weight against him, to have all that not be _weird_. They weren't little kids anymore. They were definitely too old to do that sort of thing. Wanting to be so close to another boy, wanting to touch, and touch, and just touch, it had all sorts of undesirable connotations. Adam wished that it didn't. Ronan was _his_ in a way that most people just wouldn't understand. Or couldn't. It wasn't very fair, that he had to adhere to the agreed upon rules of platonic relationships when there was nothing about his relationship with Ronan that was precedent in history, as far as he knew. Therefore, they should be allowed to do whatever the hell they wanted. Still, the thought of it made him queasy in the most abstract instinctive sense, the way one might feel hesitant about jumping out of a plane.

"What?" Ronan asked him out loud, leaning back from him to look him in the eyes.

Adam shook his head. "Nothing."

Ronan rolled his eyes and shirked off his jacket, stretching in a way that made a few thick black tendrils of ink appear crawling out from the back of his neck.

"Oh," Adam said, "your tattoo."

Ronan stilled. "What about it?"

Adam laughed. "I forgot about it." He shook his head again. "What a day that was."

Ronan scoffed.

"Can I see?"

A beat of silence passed. Ronan shrugged and reached behind his back to pull his shirt off. It was dark and there wasn't any natural light in Ronan's room, but Adam's eyes had adjusted a decent amount, and the black of the ink was stark enough against Ronan's skin that he could make out the basic shape of it. Adam had seen a lot of horrific tattoos in his day. It unfortunately came with the territory of helping his father work on cars, especially in the summer. He'd seen enough cartoon bulldogs smoking cigars stretched across the bare potbellies of middle aged men to last him a lifetime.

This tattoo was unlike anything he'd ever seen. It was almost like a painting. In the darkness of the room, it even looked freshly wet, like if Adam touched it he'd come away with stained black fingers. To Adam, even nicer tattoos still looked like awkward, out of place skin stamps that he was certain everyone would just look better without. But the ink on Ronan's skin seemed so effortless, like it was exactly where it was meant to be. He didn't know the full story behind the tattoo or what it fully meant to Ronan, but he felt like he understood it, anyway.

 _I like it_ , Adam told him eventually. _I get it. I mean, I guess I don't. But that's what I get about it. I get that it's not for me to get._

Ronan turned around with an amused snarl on his face. "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

Adam laughed. Ronan leaned into him. He kept his arms crossed in front of his chest, but let his head rest on Adam's shoulder. Eventually he let his hands fall down to the tops of Adam's legs. Adam moved his hands to hover above the small of Ronan's back. Eventually he had to lean forward, to brace himself against Ronan so he wouldn't topple over. Ronan clutched Adam's sides in response. It was the most uncomfortable, stilted, slow-motion way to hug Adam had ever experienced, though in truth Adam had not really experienced many hugs in his life at all, so he really wasn't a good authority on the subject. Furthermore, he really wished he would have had the foresight to do this before Ronan had taken his shirt off.

 _I should probably go soon,_ Adam said after a few moments.

 _Okay_ , Ronan agreed. He pulled Adam closer to him, into a real, real embrace. The swelling soft pop music in a television show kind. _Soon._

 

* * *

 

Adam stirred in his bed, feeling unusually warm for this early in the morning. He was perfectly comfortable, for once, and moving was the last thing he wanted to do. He sighed and blinked his eyes open slowly, an unfamiliar place coming into focus around him. He stilled, eyes darting up and down and back and forth, trying to make sense of where he was. He shifted and found that he was pinned down by the weight of a heavy arm draped across his chest. He twisted his body and there was Ronan, sound asleep and knotted around him. Adam's blood pounded in his veins.

"Ronan," he shook the boy beside him awake. Ronan startled badly, nearly knocking the both of them out of the bed. He blinked rapidly at Adam, blank confusion in his eyes. Adam didn't have time to feel guilty or explain himself.

"What time is it?"

Ronan, still disoriented, reached numbly for his phone and and squinted at the brightness of the screen. "Um," he grunted. "Like ten...something."

"Fuck." Adam jerked away from Ronan, scrambling up out of the bed. "Fuck. _Fuck_."

Ronan was alert now, rubbing a hand over his head and scowling. "I...guess we fell asleep."

"Yeah, no shit." Adam breathed, trying not to shake. "I have to get home. I have to….like right now, like...shit." He smacked the palm of his hand against his forehead, hard. "God damn it."

"Okay," Ronan had somehow already put on a t shirt and had his car keys in hand. "Okay, it's okay. I'll take you, right now."

They didn't waste time answering the question on Gansey's face as they flew past him out the door. Ronan kept telling Adam he was sorry, that it was his fault, he should have set an alarm or something. Adam said nothing in response. He didn't blame Ronan, but his apologies weren't going to do anything for him, either. He just sat hunched over with his head in his hands the whole drive back. He couldn't believe he'd been so careless, so stupid. So, so, so fucking stupid.

"Adam," Ronan said, his pulse spiking as soon as Adam unbuckled his seatbelt. "Don't."

"Don't what?" Adam gaped at him. He didn't have time for this. "Ronan, I have to go."

"You don't," Ronan told him. His eyes were wide and wild with uncertainty, fear. "You don't have to. I mean, if something bad is going to happen—"

"Oh," Adam nearly laughed, realizing what Ronan was worried about. He scoffed and nudged him away playfully, trying to calm his nerves. "Stop. Nothing…" He paused, shrugged. "I just need to be home." He opened the door and felt Ronan's anxiety take another staggering hit.

"If—" Ronan started, then stopped. He swallowed visibly. "If something...if you...if he...just—tell me. And I'll come get you. Okay?" He narrowed his eyes at Adam. " _Okay_?"

Adam _really_ didn't have time for this. "Okay," he told Ronan, halfway out of the car. "Thanks."

"Promise me, Adam," Ronan said with a fierceness that was the last thing Adam needed right now. "Promise me."

"Okay, okay," Adam nodded, backing away and trying to give Ronan a reassuring grin. It came out like a squinty grimace with the sun glaring directly in his eyes. "I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come yell at me on [tumblr](http://arranbyrn.tumblr.com)


	6. A Slight Tremor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so very much, as always, to everyone who has been sticking with this story. i really appreciate your patience. <3

_We met over a small,  
_ _earthquake, Now, my knees_

_shake  whenever  
you come around_

_and I've noticed your hand  
          has a slight tremor._

_—[I Have Always Confused Desire With Apocalypse](http://vegaofthelyre.tumblr.com/post/40788285148/i-have-always-confused-desire-with-apocalypse-by) _ byDaphne Gottlieb

 

* * *

 

"Holy shit." Blue's sleepy doll eyes widened to saucers. "What happened to your face?"

Adam sighed, dejected. "Is it really that bad?"

Blue blinked at him. "That's not an answer."

"Neither is that."

"Adam." Blue's eyebrows were doing the thing now. The thing that meant she was in no mood to be trifled with. She'd actually said that out loud to him before. That she was in no mood to be trifled with.

"What happened?"

Adam shook his head. "Stupid fight. It's not a big deal." Both of those things were technically true.

"Not a big deal?" Blue's eyebrows raised. "What did you get in a fight with? A sentient cement block?"

"How noticeable is it?" Adam ignored her concern. "On a scale of one to ten."

"Eleven!" Blue squawked. "At the very least."

"Oh, don't be dramatic."

Blue took the shiny metal pizza pan she'd just finished cleaning and held it up for Adam to look at his wobbly, distorted reflection.

Every once in awhile Blue would work early opening shifts at Nino's on weekdays. She called them Ghost Hours. She came in, opened up shop by herself, and was relieved in time to make it to school without being late. Her boss paid her a flat rate of fifty bucks cash for Ghost Hours, since it was usually a case of calling her in last minute because someone else bailed on their opening shift. Not many people took well to being called in during wee hours of the morning on their days off, even with the promise of a little extra pay. Blue had told him that Ghost Hours money was special. Her regular paychecks went into her savings, into buying food and clothing and necessary things. But Ghost Hours money could be spent on anything. It existed outside of regular time and space.

Adam didn't usually accompany Blue on these early morning jaunts. He'd called her over the weekend while he was on break at his own workplace. It'd been awhile since he'd seen or spoken to her and he was surprised to find himself a little desperate for the sound of her voice, the comfort of her conversation.

" _I miss you," he'd told her, which he didn't often have a reason to say to anyone._

" _I've got Ghost Hours on Monday," she'd said in return. "Sneak in and keep me company while I toil away."_

"I can't go to school like this," Adam said now, turning his head to examine his face from a new angle. From what Adam could make out, Blue _was_ being dramatic. But it was still...noticeable. He briefly wondered if Blue was too sensitive or if he was the one who had been desensitized to the sight of bruises on himself completely. Maybe it was worse than he thought.

"Fuck," he sighed.

"Adam," Blue said very seriously. "Did one of those boys do this?"

Adam was startled by the question. "What?"

"The boys that came in here the other night." Blue was getting all worked up now. "I knew something was up when you freaked. If they're making you feel unsafe at school, you need to—"

"No," Adam shook his head. "No, no. It's not that. It's just—" he raked a hand through his hair. "I can't just show up looking like this."

"I find it hard to believe," Blue said, "a banged up face at an all boys' school is a noteworthy occurrence."

The first time Adam had shown up to school with a visible bruise was in the fifth grade. He remembered the exact shape of it, the way it cupped the side of his face, crescented around his left eye. He'd gotten thrown into the refrigerator on Friday, woken up with it on Saturday, and spent all of Sunday thinking that he wasn't going to school on Monday, because the bruise had only gone from angry red to a sour eggplant color. The whole side of his face was still sore. But his mom woke him up just like normal, only pausing to say that he should tell anyone, if they asked, that he'd fallen off his bike. It made sense to him, at the time. It wasn't anyone's business what had happened. No one had asked, anyway. His teacher made a passing comment about it but it was something light and teasing. Little boys with bruises weren't a cause for concern. They were rambunctious little creatures, prone to scrape themselves up during even the most mundane activities. And what kind of parents would send their child to school with a faceful of evidence, unless they had nothing to hide?

In any case, he wasn't a little boy anymore. And Aglionby Academy wasn't Miss Thompson's fifth grade class. Not to mention now there were people that _would_ ask questions. What would Gansey and Noah think? Ronan would be furious.

Blue considered Adam in his heavy silence for a moment. "Are you gonna ditch, then?"

Adam sighed. "I've got a Calc test."

She let out a resigned little huff of a breath and set down the pan she'd been holding. She whirled around, scuttling back and forth fiercely, grabbing at things and tossing them aside, a hummingbird on a mission.

"What are you doing?" Adam peered over Blue as she scribbled out _**Family Emergency. Had To Leave ASAP.**_ onto a sticky note and pasted it over the door of a small room in the very back that Adam could only assume was an office.

"Come on," Blue said, mid-stride. "Let's go."

"Go?" Adam's confusion was overpowered by sudden alarm. "You can't just _leave_."

"I left a note!" Blue chirped indignantly.

"Will you still get paid?"

"Probably not."

"You're just going to throw away fifty dollars?"

"It's not that big of a deal," she scoffed. And Adam suddenly realized that to Blue, it wasn't. This was extra money to her, after all. She didn't need it. Not the way people at his school didn't need money. But Adam needed money in a way Blue did not. She was still above him, in some ways. Another person looking down.

"I've got an idea." Blue turned, speaking slowly as if Adam did not understand why he was meant to depart with her. "To fix your face."

"I think I'm just going to stay home today," Adam said, his throat tight. "On second thought."

Adam was good at turning down favors from strangers. He knew how to force his voice out easy and noncommittal. Like he'd be happy to take someone up on their offer if only the offer was necessary. He'd even grown out of the childish thump of his heart that used to traitorously wish for someone to ask again, to know he was lying, to understand how to help him without making him feel miserable.

But Blue was not an understanding, kindly stranger. Thus, she only rolled her eyes at him and said, "don't be stupid."

Adam had yet to put his finger on what it was about Blue and her way with talking him into things. Whatever the sinister superpower was, one could not just...say _no_ to her. It wasn't a thing that happened. Whenever she tilted her head just so, scrunched up her nose in that precise and horrible way, she rendered Adam passive and pliable to a debilitating degree. She was the type of girl who could probably get a stupid boy to follow her off the edge of a cliff if that one crooked tooth of hers was showing and her finger was curling around one of the unruly sprigs of her hair in just the right way. And Adam was not the sort of stupid boy who followed girls off the edges of cliffs, no matter how overwhelmingly cute they were. Though this might have been an overestimation of the previously perceived solidity of his character and strength of will, because his knees were bending and propelling his legs forward before he could even so much as open his mouth to retort. He never should have let her coerce him into that first milkshake. Now she thought she could get away with anything.

 

* * *

 

Blue Sargent had never had a boy inside her house before, let alone her bedroom. As she returned from her stealthy trip to the bathroom with her armful of spoils, she sort of wished she'd thought this plan through a bit more.

But she'd only been thinking of Adam, that he needed her help. And she wanted to help him. Because that's what friends did, according to sources. And he'd been looking at her with _that face_. It wasn't just the bruises. They worried her, but the look in Adam's eyes was much more disconcerting. He could have been dripping blood and screaming _help me_ at the top of his lungs and that would have been less alarming than the strange dazed emptiness clouded in his dark blue eyes. She knew Adam wasn't the type of person to ask for help, for anything really, even if he needed it. This was the boy who needed to be whittled down for hours with constant psychological poking and prodding until he reluctantly accepted a free milkshake while Blue was on the clock at work. She often felt, a little unnervingly so, that she had to be careful around him. That one day she might whittle and prod and push too hard and he'd just snap. He was always very polite and mild-mannered around her, the type of boy her mother might call _unassuming_. But there was an unmistakable undercurrent of something else underneath the warm smiles and pleases and thank yous. Blue itched to pick at him, dig until she unearthed the bloody guts of whatever Adam Parrish was hiding deep down inside himself. She just felt like there was so much of him that was off-limits to her. She rambled on for hours about her family, school, the dress she was currently making from a particularly hard to work with shower curtain. Adam listened. Laughed. Made sympathetic noises. But he didn't really talk about himself. Not beyond the kind of things you'd mention in passing to a stranger. She would look at him sometimes and marvel at how he seemed to be holding himself quite perfectly together, but only just. There was a string somewhere that she could tug on and he'd come spilling undone. She didn't know if that would be a good or bad thing. She wanted to be let into Adam's world, but not if it meant tearing him apart to get there. So she kept herself as far away as she could stand, hoping Adam would eventually reach out to her. And he was, with that look in his eyes, saying more than anything he could have spoken with his mouth.

Even so, she hadn't expected him to accept her offer. She had expected Adam to balk at her idea, flat out refuse it. Most teenage boys reacted to anything that was societally regarded as 'girly' like it was riddled with flesh-eating bacteria. But Adam's only concern as they'd mounted their bikes outside Nino's was that he'd actually tried it before, for a job interview, and it had only made him look like he was jaundiced. Blue had assured him that was only due to his lack of skill, not with the integrity of the operation itself.

It was emasculating all around, really. First, Adam had probably gotten jumped by some asshole bully from that awful school, then he had to wear the evidence of it on his face. And now this: Blue's grand idea was a decidedly _feminine_ thing to do. It seemed to her most people would think it much more manly to bear the scars of battle proudly, or whatever. But Adam seemed so ashamed by the whole thing, he didn't want to be seen this way. Another curious layer of the mystery of Adam that Blue tucked away for safe-keeping. Eventually all these bits and scraps of information would fit together to make a bigger picture. For now, all she knew was that Adam needed her help and was actually going to let her give it to him. And that required all of her attention.

She watched now as Adam's gaze raked across the walls, her bed, the messy floor. There were wads of clothes scattered in heaps, of which included visible bras and underwear. He seemed to be pointedly not looking at those. They were clean, freshly washed in fact, she just hadn't put them away yet. But that factoid would probably go unappreciated if spoken aloud. Blue could have been embarrassed, but she decided instead to remind herself that Adam's bedroom was a boy's room and therefore probably worse. She imagined half empty Cool Ranch Doritos bags and opened Playboy magazines and crusty socks by his bed to make herself feel better.

"You can, like, sit." Blue said eventually. Adam seemed to take a long moment weighing the pros and cons of that command before his knees bent, sloth-like, until he finally sank down onto the edge of her bed. She couldn't resist dumping her bounty onto her bed and patting the top of his dust-colored head.

"Good boy."

Adam scoffed and the awkward tension was broken. He eyed the items on the bed with dubious faith. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

"I know what I'm doing," Blue said.

Blue _sort of_ knew what she was doing. She'd been known to dabble in eyeshadows every once in awhile and even, on occasion, dip her toes in winged eyeliner. But she never really bothered with things like concealer or foundation. Still, she had a rudimentary knowledge of how these things were applied and was confident that she could get the job done. With that thought in mind, she rolled up her sleeves and went to work.

"Uh," Blue said, pausing to lean back and admire her masterpiece. "Uh."

Adam raised his eyebrows in mild alarm.

"Well technically," Blue amended, "the bruises are covered. It just, you know, looks like you have hazelnut butter all over your face."

Adam snorted lightly. "I told you."

"Maybe I just need to," Blue leaned back in, rubbing at the skin around Adam's eye as gently as she could, "blend it in a little more."

"I don't think—"

"What the hell," a third voice chipped in, "are you doing?"

Adam jerked back from Blue in surprise, turning his head toward the sound. Blue silently cursed her wretched existence and spun around to face her cousin, standing in the doorway in nothing but a zebra printed bra and neon green sleep shorts. Adam's head jerked in several different directions, finally ending up with it aggressively tilted down toward the floor.

"Is that my makeup?" Orla demanded, stepping further into the room.

"You know," Blue said, "knocking is, like, a thing."

"What are you _doing_?" Orla asked again, this time more delightedly scandalized. She looked from Blue to Adam and back again.

"None of your business," Blue shot back, unamused. "Get out of my room."

"You're going to wake the whole house up," Orla warned, then pointed at Adam. "He is so fucking _loud_."

Adam looked up from the floor at that, shooting Blue a wounded glance. For a moment, Blue was confused herself. The two of them had been careful to make as little noise as possible.

"Oh," Blue said a moment later, her face heating. "She's talking about...your energy."

"My _energy_?" Adam's eyebrows knit together.

This morning had taken a turn Blue had not anticipated. She didn't spend much time lamenting these turn of events and went straight for the band-aid approach. "Orla can sense people's energies. Well, everyone in this house can. They're all psychic."

To Adam's credit, he just looked immediately uncomfortable. It was unfortunate, but better than him laughing at her or calling her crazy and making moves to escape.

"I," Adam began to speak but stopped himself, changed directions. "You... _you're_...psychic?"

"No," Blue said, " _I'm_ not."

"I thought you had an early shift." Orla said, not caring about Adam's emotional processing or Blue's existential insecurities. "Has he been here all night?" Orla narrowed her eyes, taking a closer look at Adam now. After adequately surveying him, her eyes widened.

"Are you trying to cover up _hickies_?" Orla asked, a sly cat-who-got-the-cream smile spreading slowly across her face. "Blue, you little scamp."

"Shut up," Blue seethed. "If you're not going to help, then get out."

"Help?" Orla looked flabbergasted at the suggestion.

Blue sighed, casting another mournful glance toward Adam's face. As it had dried, the makeup looked like thick cake mix powdered around his bruised skin. She'd wanted to help Adam and had only made it worse. But she could still fix this. She swallowed her pride along with the gathering lump in her throat and grabbed for a makeup wipe, gently rubbing at Adam's face with it until the white cloth was covered in brown goop and Adam's face was slick and clean.

"I was trying to cover them up," Blue gestured to the gleaming bruises, now fully visible again. "Didn't really go as planned."

Orla cocked her hip to the side, placing a freshly manicured hand on it, considering. Blue could already tell she was going to do it, she loved having things to lord over Blue's head. And sneaking a bruised up teenage boy into her bedroom was just about the juiciest thing she could have on her. Blue suspected Orla's share of household chores for at least a week were silently bequeathing themselves to her as they gazed levelly at one another.

"Fine," Orla said eventually, with a dramatic sigh. "But you have to leave."

" _What_?" Blue's voice went a startlingly high octave. She composed herself. "No."

"Whatever his deal is," Orla gestured at Adam. "You're just making it worse. If you don't want us all to get caught, go wait downstairs."

"I…" Adam shifted uncomfortably on Blue's bed. "What?"

"I can.." Blue bit her lip. "Amplify things. People. Their Powers."

"And she's lighting you up like a Christmas tree," Orla clucked at him. "A Christmas tree that moonlights in a heavy metal band."

"But I don't..." Adam trailed off, his face crumpling into an expression of extreme discomfort. Blue's heart dipped in her chest. Had this breached his threshold for weird? Disappointment gurgled in her stomach. She'd thought Adam was different. Her kind of different.

"We don't have time for this," Orla said, looking back and forth between them. "Persephone will be up soon to get her tea started." She pointed at Blue, shooing her. "Get!"

Blue lingered warily, meeting Adam's troubled eyes. "Are you...okay with this?" A loaded question. Adam seemed to be genuinely conflicted for a moment, but nodded. She really wished, in this exact moment, that she could read his mind.

"Well," Blue fidgeted. "I'll just...be downstairs, then." She shot a warning look at Orla.

"Oh Jesus," Orla scoffed. "I'm not gonna fuck your boyfriend. At least not while you're in the house, anyway. That's just tactless."

Adam made a rough, throaty noise. It took a moment for Blue to realize it was a laugh. She bristled suddenly, taking in the way Adam was looking at Orla, like she was funny and fascinating and beautiful. It was the way most boys looked at Orla, so it should not have come as a surprise to Blue that Adam was no exception. It took a longer moment for Blue to realize that Orla had called Adam her boyfriend. She'd already made it downstairs by the time she'd thought to correct her. Her face flushed, embarrassment flooding her retroactively. She wondered what Adam had thought of the title being thrust upon him by her meddling cousin. She quickly forced the whole interaction out of her mind, focusing instead on listening intently for any telling sounds coming from any other members of her family stirring into wakefulness.

Although the stakes were lowered significantly now that Blue wasn't the one upstairs with Adam, alone. A disheveled boy in the company of Orla in the early hours of the morning was hardly a shocking ordeal. Blue's mouth twisted. Passing off Adam as one of Orla's disposables didn't sit well with her. She was starting to regret leaving Adam alone with Orla in the first place. She drummed her fingers on the tops of her legs, urging her cousin to hurry.

She shot straight up when she heard footsteps on the stairs, relaxing when she saw that it was Orla and Adam. Orla was looking very smug. Adam was looking very uncomfortable. She heard Orla murmuring, "...looks good. But what are you planning on doing tomorrow? Or the day after that?"

"I'll just stay home the next couple days," Adam was mumbling back. "They'll fade up enough."

Blue marveled at the sight of him. Not only were his bruises covered, they looked as if they'd been erased completely. Like they'd never been there at all.

"What did you _do_?" Blue asked Orla.

"Helped," Orla scoffed. "Duh."

Blue moved nearer to Adam, studying him. Even up close, it was hard to tell he had makeup on. She doubted anyone would be able to guess it. Certainly not stupid boys at his stupid boy school. She turned to Orla, dubious. "How'd you do it?"

"A little tinted concealer, to counteract the red and purple." Orla said breezily, clearly proud of her work. "Mixed some of my foundation with your mom's," She eyed Adam with an amused glint. "Lucky he's so tan for a white boy."

Blue harrumphed, shooting an apologetic look to Adam. But Adam was looking in the opposite direction, a strange, almost hypnotic look on his face.

"...Adam?" Blue asked uneasily. Adam didn't answer.

"Probably talking to those imaginary friends of his." Orla clucked her tongue. "You sure know how to pick 'em."

Blue whirled around. "What are you talking about?"

"Wait." Orla looked genuinely puzzled. "You don't know?"

"Know?" Blue's eyebrows furrowed. "About _what_?"

"I asked him what was up with his freaky energy," Orla told her, her gaze flitting to where Adam stood then back to Blue. "If he'd ever been read before, or had any paranormal experiences..."

"And?" Blue prompted.

"He hears voices in his head, apparently." Orla shrugged.

"Well that's...possible," Blue reasoned, trying to ground herself. "Like, he hears random people's thoughts?" How could have Adam never mentioned this? How could Blue have not noticed it? Maybe that was why Adam always looked like he was just barely holding himself together. Maybe he was struggling to block out the noise. She briefly wondered if she'd ever thought about anything particularly embarrassing in his presence.

"No," Orla shook her head. "That would be normal. What he was describing was…" she pursed her lips. "...Odd."

"What do you _mean_?" Blue's head was spinning. All her time spent with Adam flashed before her, carefully easing away at his layers, trying to get to know him bit by bit. All Orla needed to do was bat her eyelashes at him and he was spilling his deep dark secrets. Blue suppressed a growl. Now they really didn't have time for this. Someone was bound to be up any minute. She had to get Adam out of here.

"Nevermind. I'll ask him, myself." She turned back around to find Adam blinking at her, seemingly coming out of his daze. He furrowed his brow sheepishly. She grabbed his arm and hauled him unceremoniously out of her house.

"Start talking," she demanded as soon as they were outside.

"Well," Adam started, "I—"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Blue interrupted, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Did you know who I was when we first met? _The Psychic's Daughter_? Is that why you started hanging around me?" The thought of Adam's friendship stemming from some kind of ambitious deception nearly knocked the wind out of her. It wouldn't have been the first time someone cozied up to her masking ulterior motives. "Did you think I could get you in with my family or something?" All of this sounded extremely childish and uncharacteristically whiny, even to Blue's own ears. She swallowed, composing herself.

"What?" Adam's eyes were wide with surprise. "No. No, of course not. I had no idea."

The twang of Adam's accent that he usually kept clipped tight loosened the vowels around his words as he said, "It's not really the kind of thing you just go around saying to people, now, is it?"

The cloud of anger in Blue's chest deflated a little. That sounded...sensible. "No," she agreed. "But then why did you tell Orla?"

"She asked," Adam said. "She was explaining the whole thing to me, I mean, what you and your family do. She said she could sense something in me." Blue had to force herself not to roll her eyes at she pictured her cousin leering over Adam, saying this all in a low, seductive voice. Which Adam had fallen for. Of course.

"And so she asked me what my deal was," Adam continued. "I said I didn't know what she was talking about. She said there had to be _something_. 'You've never predicted anything, had a vision, read someone's mind?' And that's when it clicked."

"So. You can read minds?"

"Um," Adam swallowed. "Not exactly."

Blue uncrossed her arms, waiting.

"It's...kind of a long story." Adam kicked at the ground lightly with his foot, looking away from Blue as he spoke. "You might think I'm crazy."

"I don't think I have much room to talk," Blue scoffed. "Plus, I left you alone in a room with Orla. I think that grants you at least one favor off me. Spend it on guaranteed judgement reservation, if you must."

Adam smirked at that. "I like your cousin. She's…" Adam paused, suddenly looking conflicted. He made another low, throaty laugh. "You were right. This is hard to do at the same time."

Blue startled. "What?"

Adam blinked at her. "What?"

"What are you talking about? I was right about what?"

"Oh," Adam's cheeks flushed. "I...did I say that out loud?"

Blue stared at him, eyebrows raised. Adam was looking back at her, but his eyes were clouded, far away and wild. This new information about Adam, what he was, what he did, made Blue uncomfortable. She didn't know how to deal with it. And she didn't really want to. She wanted to turn back time to when Adam was still just the cute, sweet, mysterious boy who kept her company while she was at work. She'd been so hungry for more, so eager to peel back all his layers, but now she wasn't sure if she liked what she saw. Did Adam really hear voices in the same way her family had visions, sensed spirits? What if he _was_ just crazy? Did it matter? Was being crazy really such a bad thing? A lot of people thought Blue's family was crazy. She really _didn't_ have room to talk. Maybe Adam was just lonely. Maybe he needed a friend and had sensed something kin-like in Blue. But what if he was _dangerous_? She already knew he was violent. He'd gotten into quite the gnarly brawl, given the state of his face before Orla had worked her magic. But then again, Blue reminded herself he hadn't seemed particularly proud of this fact. He'd _wanted_ to cover up the evidence. So, what did that mean? Blue tried to imagine Adam angry enough to hit someone, really hit them, and keep hitting them. She tried to imagine him fighting with his fists. The image refused to present itself. The bruises on Adam's face were still a mystery, just like the alleged voices he heard in his head, and apparently spoke back to. Adam was a puzzle that only became more complicated the more pieces she acquired.

But Blue needed to get ready for school, and Adam had a decent trek on his bike ahead of him.

"I gotta get back inside," Blue sighed. "But you are so not off the hook. I guess...you can meet me at Mountain View after you get out today. We can bike somewhere together. To talk."

Blue really wasn't keen on bringing Adam back to her house at peak family-flittering-about hours.

"Um," Adam swallowed, his eyes uncertain. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. Sure."

Blue watched Adam retrieve his bicycle and climb onto it with as much severity and purpose as a knight mounting a gallant steed. Her mouth quirked up in spite of the morning's heavy revelations. As uneasy as the whole thing made her feel, she just couldn't quite keep a grasp on the idea that Adam was bad, that he was someone she should steer clear of.

Orla was waiting at the doorway as Blue let herself back into her house. "Your boyfriend's a little kooky. But I guess that's no surprise. Like calls to like, after all."

"He's not my boyfriend," Blue huffed, irritated. "Anyway, thanks for helping."

"How did you get mixed up with a Raven Boy anyway?" Orla asked, more concerned with the state of Blue's social life than declarations of gratitude. "You know they're all—"

"It's not what you think!" Blue interrupted. "He's not…" she shook her head, making her way to the bottom of the stairs. "I have to get ready for school."

"Whoever he is," Orla called after her, "he better be worth the Urban Decay setting spray that I wasted on him."

Blue chose not to dignify that comment with a response.

 

* * *

 

Adam hadn't known what to expect when he arrived at school that day. He felt like he was wearing a giant neon sign above his head, even though Blue's cousin had assured him that no one would notice the fact that he was wearing makeup. She'd let him look at himself in a mirror and he had been shocked at how good of a job she'd done. He hadn't been joking when he told Blue he'd tried the technique on himself once before. That had been disastrous. But Orla's work was seamless. He caught eyes with a few fellow students as he chained up his bike. No one gave him a second glance. He breathed a small sigh of relief. He'd have to find a way to thank Orla. And Blue. Repay them somehow. He tucked the idea away in his mind, saving it for later. He had other things to worry about now. Ronan had been pestering him while he was still at Blue's house about rides to and from school, but there was no way Adam could explain his location and even if he could, the last thing he needed was Ronan showing up at Blue's house.

Blue.

Adam was at a loss about her, about what had happened between them. She knew. She knew about Ronan. Well, she didn't know about Ronan specifically, but she knew about the connection. He'd promised to explain everything to her later, but he was certain her cousin had probably filled her in on everything he'd told her by now. It set Adam on edge. Gansey and Noah knowing about it was one thing. They were almost indirectly a part of it. They'd known about it, about him, for almost as long as they'd known Ronan. And back then Ronan had thought of Adam as nothing more than an imaginary friend, so Adam didn't doubt that the boys knew more intimate details of his life than he cared to dwell on. But Blue was different. Blue was the first person he'd made any sort of connection with in which he had some semblance of control in the way he presented himself. It wasn't as if he tried to be false with her, but he was simply allowed to have secrets, have things to himself. Blue didn't have any preconceived notions about him when they'd first met, and she wasn't inside his head. It was...nice. It was funny that Orla had called Blue a battery, because for Adam being around her was like being able to de-charge in the most pleasantly relaxing way.

But now, not only did Blue know about Adam's paranormal little problem, she apparently had one of her own as well. What did that mean? Were psychic people attracted to each other in that way? Had their meeting just been coincidence? But Blue wasn't psychic. That's what she'd told him. Was _Adam_ psychic? Was Ronan? Was that what had been happening to them all this time? Orla had seemed unsettled by Adam's description of the bond and how it worked. She told him she'd never heard of anything like that before. A bonafide psychic looking at you like you were a freak was probably a bad sign. Maybe Blue would have more more insight into the situation when they spoke again. Adam had been more or less content to think of what he had with Ronan as some kind of lightning strike. An unexplainable thing that was happening, for some reason, to the two of them and no one else. But if Blue's entire family was psychic, and Blue had her battery powers, that opened up a door into a whole other world that Adam had never even before considered.

He didn't know if he should tell Ronan about what he'd learned, which wasn't very much, admittedly. Perhaps he should wait until he'd talked more with Blue. Had more answers.

 _What are you_ _ **doing**_ _?_ Ronan's voice was bemused and loud in his head.

Adam startled from his thoughts. He looked around the classroom, steadying himself. _Nothing. Just got to class._

Ronan snorted. _Turn around, genius._

Adam swiveled in his seat, turning to find Ronan, Gansey, and Noah congregated toward the back of the classroom, staring at him expectantly. Adam stared back at them, dumbfounded.

 _Come sit with us,_ Ronan said. Adam turned back around to gather his things and relocate.

"I'm confused," Adam said, choosing the seat in front of Ronan, next to Noah, and diagonal from Gansey.

"Gansey got our schedules moved around," Noah explained eagerly. "So we could all be in more classes together."

"You can just _do_ that?" Adam asked.

"Gansey can," Noah said. "Especially when he uses my precariously stable psyche as an excuse."

Ronan chortled softly at that. Gansey looked a little pained. Adam didn't get the joke. But he smiled at Noah, anyway.

"It's alright," Noah went on, smiling back at Adam. "I don't mind being the excuse, if it means we can all be together."

A spike of anxiety ran through Adam. "So, wait. What's my new schedule, then? I'm supposed to have a Calc test in fifth."

If Adam had let his friend's cousin slather his face in makeup and dragged himself to school today for nothing, he was going to have to start counting slowly to ten.

Gansey shook his head. "Your scheduled hasn't changed."

"We just moved our schedules around yours," Noah added, still smiling.

"Oh." Adam cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well. Okay." He didn't really know how to feel about that. Or what it meant.

"Where were you this morning?" Ronan asked, not giving Adam much time to reflect on the schedule switching business.

When Ronan had been insistent about coming to pick Adam up for school, Adam had to explain that part of the reason why it wasn't an option was because Adam wasn't even at home. He could have lied and told them he'd been the one with an early shift, but he didn't have the energy to sell it.

"I was with Blue. My—friend. " Adam explained stiltedly. "Uh, she works at Nino's. You've probably seen her there. She works early shifts before school sometimes so we were just hanging out. She's really tiny. Short hair."

"Oh," Gansey said, his eyebrows raising. "Yes. I know her." His face reddened slightly and he bumbled on, "Well. Not personally. I've heard about her. Her family, really. I've never spoken to her. But—ah, I have seen her. There. Yes."

His reaction surprised Adam. What did Gansey know about Blue's family? He knew from what Ronan had told him of Gansey, that he was fascinated by all things occult and supernatural. Had Gansey already been in contact with these people? He wondered if it was significant that they all seemed to be connected in some way, or if it was just the curse of living in such a small town.

"Well, we could have picked you up from there," Ronan said, apparently still soured by Adam's refusal.

"She's so cute," Noah commented, before Adam could reply with further explanation. "Blue."

Now it was Adam's turn to flush. "Oh. She's—yeah, she is," he admitted.

Adam felt a sizzle of an emotion from Ronan that caused him to look in his direction, questioning. Ronan made a face and looked away.

 _Are you mad at me or something_? Adam asked him, silently.

"What?" Ronan spoke aloud, looking genuinely taken aback. "No."

Ronan cleared his throat a moment later, throwing a casual glance to a befuddled looking Gansey and Noah. "Sorry."

"Were you guys just mind-talking?" Noah asked, excited by the prospect. "Do you do that all the time? Like while you're talking to other people?"

"Sometimes," Ronan smirked, a twinge of his embarrassment muddled with amusement seeping into Adam. Adam relaxed into the feeling, into the connection. He let it surge up inside him, take hold. Ronan's smirk melted into a full blown smile, no doubt feeling Adam's presence inside himself.

"I think they're doing it right now," Gansey murmured wryly.

"Oh my," Noah crooned. "Should we turn our heads?"

The hearty laugh that erupted from Adam surprised him. Ronan's presence was warm and strong inside of him. It helped him feel grounded, secure. In that moment he felt as if he was truly a part of their little group. He shook his head at Noah and Gansey, fondly amused by their commentary. He didn't know what it looked like to them, he and Ronan gazing intensely at each other, feeling each other inside out, having secret conversations that only they could hear. Perhaps it was a bit like witnessing overzealous PDA.

It was strange, very strange, having this thing that for so long had been so deeply solitary and private be so real and interactive. But Adam didn't mind sharing it, not if this was the feeling it brought him. A solid, unshakeable feeling of belonging.

"So," Gansey said, "now that we're all here, can we start?" He glanced at the expensive looking watch on his wrist. "We've got about fifteen minutes before the last bell."

"Start?" Adam's eyebrows raised. "Is this a conference?"

"Yes," Ronan answered. "Halloween is this Saturday. Are you working?"

"Oh." This conversation had taken a turn Adam hadn't expected in the slightest. He almost wanted to laugh at the simplicity of it. "I— I am, yeah."

The three of them looked immediately crestfallen.

"But," Adam continued. "I'll be off by five PM. So. I mean. I'm free after that."

"Perfect," Gansey brightened. "We'll plan to start after that, then."

"What's on the agenda?" Adam asked. He'd never really done much on Halloween before. He had a few hazy memories of dressing up when he was very little, but beyond that the holiday usually passed without much notice from him. It didn't surprise Adam that Ronan and his friends spent it making mischief, however.

"We'll probably start out at the gelato place," Gansey said. "It's Noah's favorite."

"Oh yeah," Adam said. "It's your birthday, right? Big eighteen, huh?"

Noah smiled wanly. Gansey had that pinched look back on his face. Adam looked questioningly at Ronan. Was he wrong? That was definitely something he remembered Ronan mentioning. Or at least he thought it was.

"Yeah," Ronan said eventually, "it's Noah's birthday."

The mood had shifted quite plainly and Adam didn't understand what he had said that caused it. Gansey finally retook hold of the conversation, steering it back to other suggestions for the night's activities. Adam tugged at Ronan with his mind, a force of habit when he felt anxious or awkward, and Ronan's response was warm and reassuring. He couldn't help but feel brushed off. What was he missing, here? Maybe Noah didn't like a big deal being made out of his birthday. Adam could relate. Not that he'd ever had anyone try. Whatever the case may be, Adam was relieved when the last bell finally sounded, indicating the beginning of class and the end of their discussion.

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully in comparison to the rollercoaster of a morning Adam had been through. It was a little shell shocking at first, having Ronan inside his head all day while simultaneously being so physically close. But thrill of it was heady almost to the point of intoxication. Trading silent jokes. Giving each other answers to questions. The connection thrummed between them, steady and warm and electric all day long. He felt strangely powerful, like he and Ronan were somehow... _more_...than everyone else around them. He'd never felt anything like it before. Adam was the type of person who liked people to know that he was in control, when he was. He demanded respect. He deserved recognition for his accomplishments and his abilities. But this was the sort of thing that no one could ever know about. And Adam found he didn't care. Sharing it with Ronan was enough.

 

* * *

 

"And that's when they took away my car," Noah finished his story with a plucky smile, like he was proud of his delinquency. Adam couldn't imagine what it felt like to disobey your parents so easily, and on purpose. To laugh about it, to not be afraid. He wanted to hate Noah for it, badly. But Noah's squeaky little laugh was infectious, it pierced his heart. And there was something about the way Noah sometimes got quiet and looked away dazedly in the middle of their conversation during their lunch break. The way Ronan and Gansey seemed to be pointedly not bringing up the birthday thing again. Adam had the feeling he could maybe relate to Noah more than he might have initially assumed. And then, of course, there was the matter of his face. Adam found himself staring at it rather impolitely, when Noah wasn't looking. At first, he'd thought it was nothing more than a large birthmark. But the closer he looked at it, the more it looked like something else. Something that he wasn't born with. Something that had _happened_.

Adam swallowed, thinking of the marks on his own face, hidden behind a mask of makeup. Orla's work was impeccable. No one mentioned it, no one looked at him like they saw anything amiss. If Ronan had, he wouldn't have kept quiet about it inside his head. It was a good thing, because the last thing Adam wanted was anyone's unwarranted concern. He loathed the thought of someone like Gansey staring at him the way he'd been staring at Noah, wondering what happened. Adam felt a little guilty for treating Noah the way he'd hate to be treated. He tried to make up for it by taking his side vocally when Ronan dug at him about it being lame that his parents still took away his stuff when he didn't even live at home anymore.

"There are a lot of lame things I could bring up about _you_ , Ronan," Adam announced from the backseat of the BMW with a sly smile.

"Please!" Noah was delighted. "Spill his deep, dark secrets."

"I have as much on you as you do on me." Ronan rolled his eyes briefly in Adam's direction. "Besides, you're all talk."

Adam shrugged, still smirking evasively. Noah and Ronan continued to berate each other while Ronan took a very sharp left turn that sent Adam careening into Noah, who let out a high-pitched squawk. Adam reminded him that his bike was mounted to the back of his car. Gansey usually drove them to school in his bright orange Camaro which Adam had come to learn was named "The Pig". But Ronan, in his staunch confidence that they'd be taking Adam with them after school, had driven everyone today in his sleek BMW, because it was better suited to mount a bike with. And Ronan's offended reply to Adam's concern about his driving skills was as unkind in tone as it was colorful in language. Adam looked at Gansey, who was quiet but smiling contentedly. The two of them locked eyes for a moment and the look Gansey gave Adam was almost _knowing_. There was an undeserved element of familiarity to it. Like this was something they did often. Like the two of them knew each other well enough that they could share a silent, private thought together. The unexpected weight of it settled heavy in Adam's chest. For a moment, he thought wildly, _these are my friends_. He'd never felt so comfortable around anyone, except Ronan, and perhaps Blue.

"Oh!" Adam's heart stopped in his chest.

Ronan slammed on the breaks. He must have felt the sharp knife of anxiety that had hurled itself directly into Adam's stomach. "What?" He spun around in his seat. Noah and Gansey turned to look at Adam as well, confused concern in their eyes.

"Blue," Adam said. "I was supposed to meet her after school today." They were nearly to Monmouth by now. "Shit. She's waiting for me."

"You can use my phone," Gansey offered, already digging into his shirt pocket. "Call her and let her know you're running late."

"I don't think she has a cell," Adam said. "I guess... just let me out here. I'll have to catch up with you guys later."

Annoyance rippled through Ronan. Adam shot him a confused look. The feeling immediately dissipated. "I can take you." Ronan put the car back in drive. "Where are you meeting her?"

The thought of the four of them showing up at Mountain View High School in Ronan's shiny BMW made Adam a little nauseous. Blue would only have more questions for him. Questions he wasn't sure he was ready to answer. But biking there would take more time and Adam didn't like the thought of Blue waiting around all by herself, not knowing where he was or if he'd forgotten about her.

Although the look on Blue Sargent's face when Ronan skidded to a stop in front of her was enough to make Adam reconsider the way his brain processed information and used it to make decisions. He nearly crossed himself before exiting the vehicle.

"Hey," he tried to sound casual. "Where's your bike?"

"Where's _yours_?" Blue's eyebrows were inching toward her hairline.

He motioned to the mount. Blue gaped at him like she didn't even know who she was looking at. He supposed she really didn't. His relationship with Blue may not be built on lies, but it wasn't built on the truth, either. Guilt hit him. He shouldn't have done this, shown up like this. He should have just biked here as fast as he could once he'd remembered where he was supposed to be. He shouldn't have forgotten in the first place. It was no way to repay Blue after what she'd done for him. But he could make up for all his mistakes now. Whatever questions she had, he would answer honestly. It was a weak start, but it was a start nonetheless.

"I was running late so my mom ended up driving me today," Blue said, finally. "I figured when you got here, you'd could tote me."

"I can still do that," Adam said. "Where do you want to go?"

"Adam," she hissed between her teeth. "What the hell?" She shot a furtive glance toward the boys. Turned back to Adam, disgusted. "What are you doing with them?"

He winced. "They're my friends."

" _Friends_?" Blue was horrified. "We—you hate them!"

"I don't," Adam told her.

Blue scoffed loudly. "Wow. Okay."

"Blue, come on." Adam pleaded. "Just wait a minute. I can explain. I can explain everything."

"Whatever," Blue said. "I don't think I want to know anymore."

The words stunned him. "Blue." Her name left his mouth more desperately than he'd planned. "Don't say that."

"You and your sensitive, mysterious boy act!" she shrilled haughtily. "God, you're such a liar."

"I'm not." Adam's throat was tight. "I didn't—"

"Then what was the other night?" Blue demanded. Her voice was rising and Adam was sure Gansey and Noah and Ronan could hear everything. "What? Did I just imagine that? These weirdos showing up and you wigging out and running off? And now all of a sudden they're your best friends?"

"You're my best friend," Adam said, quiet for only Blue to hear. He hadn't meant to say it. But it wasn't a lie. Once it was out of his mouth, he realized the truth of it. So much that he almost wanted to take it back.

She stared up at him, eyes searching. "And them?"

"They're my friends," Adam said again. "They're as important to me as you are."

He was laying it on thick but he couldn't help himself. He couldn't stand the idea of Blue being angry with him, not wanting to be around him anymore. He imagined it briefly: having to avoid her when he went into Nino's, accidentally making eye contact with her in random places around town only for her to quickly look away. But that wasn't really Blue's style. If she saw him, she wouldn't turn away. She'd look right through him, like he was nothing. He couldn't handle that. He couldn't be nothing to her.

She looked at him for a long time. He could see the wariness in her eyes, the decision that she was turning over in her head. Adam actually wished he could let her inside, for just a moment, the way he could with Ronan, so she could understand. She would feel him and know him and he would feel her and know her and words wouldn't be necessary. But that was impossible. No one would ever be able to know him the way Ronan did. It was probably a good thing. Sharing headspace with one person was enough trouble.

"You know," both Blue and Adam turned to find that Gansey had stepped out of the car to address them. "I couldn't help but overhear...a bit...and I, I can certainly understand where Blue's confusion is coming from."

He turned to speak to Blue directly. "The situation between us and Adam has been...regrettable...until very recently. I assume you two haven't had much time to talk about the state of things since it's all been patched up." He smiled at her, warm and handsome and genuine. "But I suppose now is as good a time as any for us all to sit down and talk about it, if that is what needs to happen so that we can all move forward from here."

"Excuse me," Blue cocked her head at him. "Did I accidentally just slip into an alternate universe in which I did, in fact, ask for your opinion?"

Gansey looked as if he'd been slapped. Adam heard Ronan snort loudly from inside the car. Blue was unapologetically blunt, always. Ideally, he should have warned them about this, about her. But he hadn't thought these two particular streams of his life would be crossing anytime soon, if ever.

Gansey righted himself a moment later, taking Blue's rejection in stride. "I apologize if I've overstepped any boundaries," he said, glancing apologetically at Adam before cutting his gaze back to Blue. "You're clearly very important to Adam."

Blue tipped her chin up, defiant but proud. "Yeah. So?"

"I just thought I — _we_ — might be able to shed a bit more light from a different perspective on the situation," Gansey replied. "Why don't the five us go somewhere together? We could go to Nino's, get something to eat. How does that sound?"

Blue narrowed her eyes. "I work at Nino's."

"Yes," said Gansey, smiling like an oblivious game show host.

"We kind of had plans," Blue directed at Adam. "To talk. About things. Things that don't involve your _friends_."

"The thing is," Adam said, "they all _are_ kind of involved."

Blue's eyes widened. "Don't tell me you all have freaky mind powers. What is this, _The Covenant_? Why does this always happen? Rich white boys are the last people on Earth who need magical powers!"

Adam sighed. "Forget it. I can tote you home, if that's what you want. And then I won't bother you anymore, if that's what you want. We'll go our separate ways."

Blue looked wounded at the suggestion. It wasn't what Adam wanted and it was a gamble to try Blue at her own game. She might have made a big show of how angry she was, but Adam had to believe that maybe she'd be just as hurt at the thought of losing him as he was of losing her.

"Or we could drive you home," Gansey offered. "I'm sure Ronan would be more than happy."

A rumbling wave of offense from Ronan crashed in Adam's chest. Blue groaned loudly in a way that was steeped in resignation and Adam had to repress a smile. Somehow this chaos was shaping itself into something manageable.

"Fine," Blue relented venomously. 

Gansey reacted quickly, stepping away from passenger door of the BMW. He gestured to it grandly, offering Blue to enter.

Blue bent over, peering into the car with her lips pursed tight. Noah gave her a wary smile. Ronan was tugging at one of the leather bands wrapped around his wrist. Adam reached for him in his mind. Ronan huffed at him silently. Adam frowned.

"I'll pass on the bald one," Blue announced, stepping forward to wrench open the backseat door.

Noah stared up at her, surprised and maybe a little awed.

Blue eyed him up and down, significantly less impressed. "Move over, Sum 41."

"Actually," Noah replied as he unbuckled himself and slid his body down the length of the backseat. "I prefer Blink 182."

"Good to know," Blue climbed in after him. Adam followed behind her, encasing Blue in between the two of them.

"You shouldn't tease Ronan about his hair," Noah said solemnly, once they were all settled inside the car. "It fell out due to years of rigorous training to become a superhero."

"Tragic," Blue commented, a ghost of a smirk appearing on her lips. She tilted her head toward Gansey. "And him?"

"Trusty cyborg companion," Noah told her. "He's half computer. That's why when he talks he sometimes sounds like Google auto-suggest."

Blue giggled. Gansey looked unamused.

"Where am I going?" Ronan asked gruffly, starting the car again.

 _What's wrong_? Adam shot to him at the same time Gansey said, "Nino's?" and Blue said, "Just take me home." Ronan closed his eyes and opened them, letting out a hard, impatient breath.

 _Nothing_ , he said to Adam, but the emotions Adam felt said otherwise. He seemed to realize this himself a moment later and added, _this just seems like it's not going to end well._

 _It'll be fine,_ Adam reassured him. _Blue is cool. She just wants to know what's going on._

"I think they're doing it again," Noah said. "Your eyes go all intense and far away when you do it. If you're gonna pass brain notes in front of people often, you two should work on that."

Blue looked back and forth between the lot of them. "What are you talking about?"

"Noah," Gansey said. There was a hint of an edge to his voice.

"What?" Noah scrunched up his nose. "It's constructive criticism."

"Can we go back to whatever just happened?" Blue cut in. "I feel like that is a thing that needs to be addressed."

Adam pulled away from Ronan to focus on Blue. "I told you it was a long story."

Blue met his gaze levelly. She shook her head and sighed. "Alright. Nino's it is, then."

 

* * *

 

"That's weird," Blue hummed around the straw she was chewing on. "I've heard of a lot of things, but nothing ever quite like that."

Adam had been expecting more of a _prove it_ sort of response from Blue, but maybe coming from a family of psychics gave her a keener eye for weeding out false claims.

Adam was now the one smushed in between Blue and Noah. Gansey and Ronan sat across from them. Gansey was looking at Adam, rapt, like it was the first time he'd ever heard this story. Noah was concentrated on folding up his napkins into very small squares. Ronan had his arms crossed, head cocked back, putting forth an air of hard disinterest in everything around him. Adam could feel he was uncomfortable. And a little afraid. It made sense. Ronan didn't know Blue like Adam did, none of them did. Of course he would be leery. Adam just wished he could assure him that she was trustworthy, he felt oddly defensive, but Blue would prove herself on her own.

"It gets weirder," Adam glanced sideways at Blue. "Ronan and I are so used to the bond it's just become a part of our normal, but it's unpredictable. It changes. Sometimes it's so strong it's unbearable, sometimes it almost fades away completely."

"What's the longest it's gone away for?" Blue asked, fascinated. "Hours, days, weeks?"

Gansey's hands were fiddling with the silverware in front of him. Adam had a strong sense that he was physically stopping himself from taking out a pen and paper and jotting down notes.

"Uh, well," Adam said. "That's a bit of a loaded question."

Ronan scoffed at that. Adam met his eyes across the table. "What?"

Ronan shook his head. "I'm just over this conversation."

"I always thought there was something about you," Blue said to Adam. "Something weary about your spirit. Like you carried a large burden." She flicked her eyes to Ronan. "Now I understand."

Ronan's nostrils flared. "What is that supposed to mean?"

The ice in his voice was so chilling that it startled Adam, who was used to Ronan's inclement temperament. Blue, however, was unruffled. "You seem very disagreeable, that's all." She popped her straw back into her glass of lemonade and took a long sip. "Having you in my head all the time would be exhausting."

"I could say the same thing about you," Ronan said, almost as if the words were some kind of challenge.

 _Don't be a shit_ , Adam chastised him silently.

 _She started it_ , Ronan gaped at him, betrayed. _She's a real piece of work._

 _She's just...earnest_ , Adam told him.  _You get used it._

Ronan didn't reply, though Adam could feel him seething.

"Guys," Noah said, glancing amusedly between Ronan and Adam. "We talked about this."

"If you've got something to say about me," Blue said to Ronan, "feel free to share with the class."

"Don't flatter yourself," Ronan shot back coldly. Adam threw him a pleading look.

"Alright," Gansey spoke for the first time since Adam had begun recounting the last ten years of his life with Ronan to Blue. "Perhaps a subject change is in order for the time being. Noah. Have you given any more thought to Saturday's itinerary?"

"What's happening on Saturday?" Blue asked.

Adam saw Ronan open his mouth to say something undoubtedly rude, but thankfully Noah beat him to the punch.

"It's my birthday," he announced flatly.

"Oh!" She rewarded him with a genuine smile. It lit up her whole face, transforming her from cute to devastatingly lovely. Noah was understandably dazzled. "Well, happy birthday, early."

"You can come, if you don't already have plans," Noah said. Both Gansey and Ronan sputtered incredulously.

Noah fixed them with a hard look. "It's rude to talk about plans in front of someone who isn't invited." He turned back to Blue with an impish grin. "You're invited."

Blue rolled her eyes. "You don't have to do that."

"You have to come," Noah insisted. "There has been a severe lack of pretty girls in my life up until very recently. If at all possible, I'd like to keep the streak going."

"It might also be considered rude," Gansey said, "to hit on Adam's girlfriend in front of him."

Blue paused, her expression souring as she turned from Noah to Gansey. "I'm sorry. Who died and made you president of my chastity lady honor?"

Ronan actually stifled a laugh at that. Adam felt the smallest twinge of something that could be described as a positive emotion coming from him. One step forward, two steps back.

"Blue is not my girlfriend," Adam said, a little embarrassed at the notion that they'd all thought something else this entire time. A belated twist of awkwardness wrenched inside him. "I'm sorry if I hadn't made that clear."

"I've been called worse," Blue shrugged. "But it has become a tedious accusation in the past twelve hours."

"I'm sorry," Gansey said, flustered. "I just assumed."

"So I'm allowed to flirt with you, then?" Noah asked. "Or is there someone else who I have to worry about beating me up for trying?"

Blue scoffed, cheeks pink with amusement. Adam had seen Blue verbally eviscerate enough foolhardy boys who whistled at her or made obnoxious comments while she was working to know she had no problem telling pushy guys exactly where they could shove it. But Noah, blond and bruised and sugary sweet, made forwardness work for him.

"You're awful," she said in a voice that any boy with an inclination toward females would die to be told he was awful in. "Watch yourself. You'll be a legal adult, soon."

"Actually," said Noah, "it's my sweet sixteen. And I've never been kissed."

"Noah," Gansey said, surprisingly stern.

"What?" Noah pouted. "I'm just joking around."

"You're not a child," Gansey replied simply. Adam was prepared for Noah, who sparred so easily with Ronan, to have a sharp comeback primed and ready. But he went quiet at Gansey's words, eyebrows knitting together as he reached for one of his tattered napkins and restarted the folding process.

Gansey cleared his throat. "You know what I mean," he added, awkwardly. Noah nodded, swallowed, then stood up.

"Noah," Gansey said softly.

"I have to pee," he announced with a shrug. "I'll be right back."

When he was out of earshot, Ronan sighed. "Nice one, Dick."

"Seriously," Blue crossed her arms. "What is your problem?"

"I didn't mean to upset him." Gansey's broad shoulders sunk inward.

The four of them quietly fidgeted until Blue said, "maybe you should go say something to him."

"He's using the…" Gansey blinked rapidly, realization whirring. "Bathroom?"

Ronan sat up straight. "Go check." Adam felt his alarm.

Blue made a disconsolate noise once Gansey had left. "Is there always so much drama in this squad?"

"It's a Monday," Ronan deadpanned, which earned a short bark of a laugh from Blue.

"You think Noah's alright?" Adam asked, concerned.

Ronan shrugged. "He can be sensitive, sometimes."

Adam nodded, though he felt uneasy. He wasn't sure if it was Ronan's or his own.

The feelings became even harder to distinguish when Gansey came back into view, his face a mess of creased lines and worry. "He wasn't in there."

Blue leaned forward. "Did you check the girls' bathroom, too?"

"No?" Gansey looked bewildered. "Why would I do that?"

"Where else would he be?" Blue challenged. "We would have noticed if he walked right by us and left."

Gansey looked even more troubled. "Should I…?"

Blue stood up. "I'll go look."

Adam had to stand and move to let her out. They all followed behind her, waiting anxiously outside the ladies' restroom door. When she came out by herself, shaking her head, panic flooded Adam. Ronan's, mostly. But Adam was worried, too. The sudden memory of Noah making a joke that morning about his mental state wormed its way to the forefront of his thoughts. Gansey questioned Blue about alternative exits and she supposed he could have snuck his way out through the kitchen. But why? Blue tried an optimistic suggestion, maybe he just went outside for some air. They scrambled for their things, Gansey hastily dropped a wad of cash onto the table. Adam didn't even have the energy to be offended by the obscenity of it. They circled around the building twice over. "Call him," said Blue, the only one of them with any apparent sense left.

"Straight to voicemail," Ronan hissed. "Damn it."

An unpleasant creeping of dread was filling Adam's lungs. The ride back to Monmouth was painfully quiet. Blue and Adam waited in the car while Gansey and Ronan went inside to search. It wasn't likely Noah had walked such a length in such a short span of time, though Adam's breath still caught when Ronan appeared in his head, dejected and distressed. _Not here. We're coming back out._

"Was he in there?" Blue whispered. Adam shook his head. She hissed frustratedly through her teeth. He put his hand over top of hers and squeezed it lightly.

"I texted his sister," Gansey told Adam when he and Ronan were back in the car. "She said she hasn't seen him."

"Well, don't freak her out," Adam said. "We'll find him."

"We didn't," Ronan huffed. "We didn't even say he was missing."

Missing. The word rattled inside Adam uncomfortably. He wanted to tell Ronan he was being dramatic. That _missing_ was a term for lost pets and cop shows. They'd just been with Noah less than twenty minutes ago. He'd been there one minute, gone the next. How could a person just disappear?

The four of them were silent. Adam tried to soothe Ronan's anxiety but he was having a hard time quelling his own. Though Adam wasn't certain, he had an unfortunately strong feeling this was unprecedented territory for all of them.

The sky outside was a ripe, dusky purple. It would be getting dark soon. And Noah was nowhere to be found.


	7. Bone + Tissue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's so much I want to say but I will try my best to keep it brief. I just want to say thank you so so so so incredibly MUCH for all the support I have received for this story. I really can't put into words how much it means to me, the readerships, the kudos, the comments, the messages I get on tumblr, the continued support and interest in the story even though the waiting time is so unreliable and unpleasant. I am eternally grateful to each and every one of you and I would very much like to do SOMETHING to show it. I don't really know what you guys would want, I had a few ideas but idk! I just want to do something cool for you guys to show my gratitude, but you'll have to let me know what you guys would want. You know, besides me just sucking less at updating. That is a fatal flaw I cannot mend. 
> 
> SOME IMPORTANT DISCLAIMZ (PLEASE READ SRSLY MY BABES): This is an intense chapter. There are a lot of Things in it that are uncomfortable, emotional, scary, even triggering (which I will get to in a second). There is a scene in which Adam and Ronan are younger that I do not want to be read as eroticized or something to be sexually stimulating in any way, as it occurs when they are little small ones. For me, it was more about the fact that this scene is an integral part of the story itself and the journey that Adam and Ronan are going on in their feelings for each other, which has been an ongoing process since the day they met inside their heads. And to, if anything, normalize the idea that mlm attraction is something that is completely normal to start feeling even at a very young age, the same way straight kids get crushes on other kids of their preferred gender and begin to explore and examine their romantic orientation and sexuality and it's all normal, you know? I hope that makes sense. And yes, there is some confusion and fear and slivers of negative self-thinking that goes along with it. This is not intended to be angst for the sake of angst, and is in all honesty, simply based on my own life experiences as a wlw. 
> 
> Other Trigger Warnings Specific To This Chapter: implied CSA (there are no graphic descriptions or anything like that) but the implication is there. the after-effects of such is something that will expanded upon, but again, nothing will ever be described in any sort of great detail. 
> 
> I feel like I made this chapter sound super fucking yikes and you're all scared off now but I do hope you'll give it a chance, take into account that this is all part of the overall story I'm trying to tell, and this just happens to be a rough part of that story to get through. But that being said, be safe, and protect yourselves <3\. If you have any questions you'd like to ask regarding triggers or squicky content before reading you can feel free to message me off anon on tumblr in my inbox or through the IM system. my tumblr url is now softimdrake.

_If I falter on my oaths_  
_Will it prove I'm more than skin and bones?_  
  


"[Bone + Tissue](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lj-0Wcqhh4k)" - Gallant

 

* * *

 

Adam had the strange sensation that he had blinked and missed a superhero transformation sequence. It was startling to see Gansey go from normal boy to Action Man in a matter of seconds. He was sharp and concise with his sentences, throwing names of stores and restaurants and unfamiliar names and addresses at Ronan and catching the ricochet and answering himself before Ronan even had time to open his mouth.

Find Noah. That was the objective.

They'd been brainstorming for nearly an hour now, driving around in circles, anxiety poisoning the air around them with each passing minute, infiltrating their worried lungs and mutating into cold, wild fear.

Adam didn't really _know_ Noah well enough to fully understand the frenzy, but he could feel Ronan's devastating agitation, and he had enough pieces to put together a rough but workable picture in his mind. Something was wrong with Noah. Something that made him go pale at the mention of his birthday and shrink under Gansey's snapped reminder of it. Something big, something bad, something that wasn't talked about.

"I don't get it," Blue finally said, after they'd rounded the same block for the fourth time. "What's going on?"

"We're trying to find Noah." Ronan didn't bother to turn around. "Did you just wake up from a nap?"

She growled quietly under her breath. "I meant what is going on _in general_? You two," she looked pointedly at Gansey, "are acting like we're on some kind of Covert Ops CIA mission. What's wrong with Noah? Is he Hulking Out somewhere or something?"

"Nothing's wrong with him," Ronan answered hotly. "We're taking you home."

"What?" Blue sprang forward. "No! I want to help."

"You don't even know Noah," Ronan countered. "You'd just slow us down."

"Yeah, because Adam knows him so well." Blue aimed her words at Ronan like arrows. "And yet I don't see you rushing to take him home."

Ronan turned around but Gansey was faster. "She does have a point."

Adam shrugged from the backseat, choosing his concern for Noah over the sting of exclusion. "I don't want to slow you guys down, either. You can drop me and Blue off at her place."

"That's not what I meant," Gansey said to Ronan's bared teeth. To Blue and Adam, he said, "Four heads are certainly better than two. However, we've got a team here of two people who know Noah very well and two people who don't know him much at all."

"I think the best thing to do," he spoke this slowly, reverently, as if he were savoring a fine piece of chocolate on his tongue, "is split up."

"How is that going to help?" Blue scoffed. "I don't have a phone on me and neither does Adam. How will we communicate if someone gets ahold of Noah or finds him or he's hurt or something?"

"Not split up individually," Gansey clarified. "Teams of two. Ronan will go with Adam and you'll come with me."

Blue shrank back from him. "Who says I'm going with you?"

He raised his eyebrows. "You'd rather go with Ronan?"

"Why don't _you_ go with Ronan and _I_ go with Adam?"

"As you just mentioned," Gansey replied, "Neither you nor Adam have means of communication on your own. Plus, this way, Ronan and I—the two with the most information about Noah—will be spread out and able to cover more ground faster."

"It's a good plan," Adam offered up, earning him a Caesar-like glare of betrayal from Blue. "But if you're not comfortable," he added, "We can just take you home."

Blue snatched her hand away. "I'm perfectly comfortable with doing whatever it takes to find Noah."

"Alright, then it's settled." Gansey clapped his hands together, an inappropriate grin spreading across his face. He started the car, quickly glancing to Ronan to tell him he was driving back to Monmouth so he and Adam could get the BMW and the two teams could go their separate ways. At some point, Blue's hand had inched its way back over to Adam's, her pinky nervously stroking on top of his. For the second time today, he wished he could as easily assuage her the way he could with Ronan, spill some reassurance and comfort into her. Or at least silently touch base, make sure she was okay with all of this. It was a continual and unexpected shock, feeling so close to someone who he couldn't reach in that way. He found himself still attempting it mindlessly and floundering in the empty space, like coming down hard while trying to climb a step that isn't there. How did other people speak without words? It wasn't something he was particularly experienced in.

Neither was touch, when it was the soft and intimate kind. But he wrapped his pinky around Blue's and squeezed it all the same. When he felt her squeeze back, it wasn't as certain and intrinsic as what he had with Ronan, but it was no less marveling in its ability to warm him from the inside out. He could only hope it had the same effect on Blue.

* * *

 

"Didn't hear from you much over the weekend," Ronan said, his voice startlingly loud in the quiet of the woods. They'd jumped the fence to get to the park trail that was now closed. Ronan had suggested they search this area first. Apparently Noah also had a penchant for jumping fences and night hiking.

Adam ignored Ronan's question. "Doesn't your fancy phone have a flashlight?"

Ronan scoffed. "Why? You scared of the dark, Parrish? You wanna hold my hand?"

"More like I don't have the eyesight of a goddamn owl," Adam huffed out an indignant breath. "Did you just call me _Parrish_?"

Ronan turned around and began to walk backward. Adam could only just make out the lines of a smirk forming. "That's your last name, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is." Adam said. He narrowed his eyes and retaliated with a biting, "Lynch."

Ronan cackled like a cawing bird, turned to walk forward again.

"You didn't answer me," he added a beat later. "Where were you all weekend?"

"Can we just focus on looking for Noah?"

"Why are you being so weird about it?" Ronan pressed. "Why didn't you talk to me, like, at all?"

"Didn't know I needed to be at your beck and call every second."

Ronan was skating hard on the thin ice of Adam's patience. Not that that was anything new.

"I know something happened," Ronan's pace quickened, like he needed to distance himself from Adam to keep going. "You were trying to keep as far away from me as possible, which means you didn't want me to feel you. Which means you got hurt."

There wasn't any point in lying to Ronan about this. He already knew. Yet his agitation needled in Adam's gut. Adam knew that Ronan wanted Adam to say it, tell him everything. More than anything, he wanted Adam to let him feel it, too. Which was completely fucked up. But the thought of Ronan being hurt somewhere and Adam not being able to feel it itched inside his throat like an allergic reaction. Still, this wasn't Ronan's problem. It wasn't his cross to bear.

Adam finally said, "It's not a big deal."

Ronan stopped walking. Adam stopped too. They stood a few feet apart, breathing hard against the cool night air. Ronan shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. Adam didn't bother reaching for him. The dark outline of his shape was enough for Adam to know exactly what Ronan was going to say next.

"If this is going to be a fight," Adam said, "Can it at least wait until after we find Noah? I feel like that's kind of a bigger problem at the moment."

"You think everything is going to be a fight," Ronan said quietly, almost to himself. There was a resigned tenderness in his voice that soured on Adam's tongue. Ronan knew better than to pity him. Unwelcome rage gathered in his chest, reminding him it was always there, right underneath the surface. Adam knew logically there would come a day where he wouldn't be able to fight it. One wrong step, one weak moment, and Adam would snap. He'd hit someone. He'd ruin himself.

Ronan turned around sharply, no doubt feeling it all, and looked at Adam not with pity, or fear, or disgust, but with a deranged sort of scowl that Adam couldn't assign to any common emotion. Even with Adam's years of practice in taking apart Ronan's feelings and putting them together inside himself, sometimes they were just cartoon balls of dust and stars. But even that, in its confounding chaos, it was a kind of insight. Ronan was a deceivingly flat looking image that only Adam had the magic 3D glasses to.

Most people would look now at Ronan's furrowed brow and curled lip and think simply: anger. Adam knew it wasn't that. Or at the very least, not _just_ that. Or maybe he was just feeling Adam's anger. Or maybe part of the reason Adam was so irrationally angry was because of Ronan. He wondered, for a moment, if that's what had brought them together in the first place. A meddling God (if those were real) or a naturally occurring Peer Mediation of the universe itself. Lock two angry boys in each other's heads and let them tire themselves out.

Ronan extracted one of his hands from his pocket and swiped and pressed on his phone with his thumb. A blinding beam of white light smacked Adam in the face. He blinked, seeing stars as Ronan turned the phone around, held it out to Adam.

"Here."

Adam was still ineffectively simmering his rage, his shame. He wanted to take the phone in his hand and crush it. Or better yet, throw it against something that would break it. That was the Parrish way.

"What _is_ going on with Noah?" Adam asked instead, swallowing it all back down. Still stronger than the monster, for tonight at least. "Talk about acting weird. You all looked white as ghosts when I brought up Noah's birthday at school earlier. And then whatever Gansey said to him at Nino's sent him over the edge."

Adam strained to remember what exactly the exchange of words between them had been. Noah had been shamelessly flirting with Blue one second and then burying his head in the sand the next.

"Something's going on that you and Gansey know but haven't said."

Ronan sighed as they walked. "It's a long story."

Adam scoffed, kicked a rock. "Oh yeah, I'm kind of in a hurry."

He felt a warm, startlingly pleasant pulse of amusement from Ronan.

Most of the time Ronan's feelings pummeled over him like waves, sliced into him like knives. Everything Ronan felt, he felt very _hard_.

But sometimes, inexplicably, they came to Adam softly. A swarm of fireflies buzzing in his chest. Honey sliding down his throat.

"Sounds like you've been putting the pieces together so far, Nancy Drew," Ronan shot back at him mirthfully. "Why don't _you_ tell me?"

Adam frowned, absently holding on to the light Ronan had unwittingly placed inside him like a child might suck on their thumb. "Well, I know it's got something to do with his birthday," he said, recalling the strange events that had led to Noah's disappearing act.

"Yeah," Ronan kept walking. "You've mentioned that. And?"

Adam made his brain feed him the memories as keywords for potential clues, furrowing his brow as he waded through specificities.

"He…I think he got upset when I mentioned him turning eighteen." The cogs in Adam's brain whirred, he licked his lips, tasting electricity. "Because then Blue said it again at Nino's. And he made a joke about being younger. And Gansey made that comment about him not being a child. That's when he got up and left."

Adam felt the smooth satisfaction of being correct fill him. He felt an alarmed sort of stirring from Ronan, as if he hadn't expected Adam to actually figure it out. Adam smirked in defiant victory.

"That was kind of creepy," Ronan said, not pausing to look back at him. But Adam could feel that he was impressed, and for a moment, something sharper bit into him. An emotion Adam definitely recognized but faded too quickly for him to name. "Our powers didn't suddenly evolve to mind-reading, did they?"

"I don't know," Adam drawled. "What am I thinking right now?" He was thinking of the fact that Ronan had just referred to the connection as _their powers_. The word brought him back to his uncomfortable encounter with Blue's psychic cousin and the revelation that Blue could amplify the powers of others. Orla had said she was doing it to Adam. He'd never thought of the connection as some kind of….power. What was the point of it? In stories, a power was either a shield or a weapon. Which one was this supposed to be?

"Disgusting," Ronan replied with a high mocking ring to his voice. "Adam, you're perverted. I try not to kink-shame, but that's just wrong."

Adam rolled his eyes, fondly weary. "Negative on the evolution theory."

"That's it, age thing." He brought the conversation back to Noah. "But I don't get it. Is he freaked out about being an adult or something?"

Adam's eighteenth birthday had come and gone without anyone noticing. He'd hardly noticed it himself. He probably wouldn't have even given it any thought at all if Ronan had been around in his head to remind him of all the things he could do now that he was a legal adult. Buy cigarettes. Buy porn. Buy a lottery ticket. Get into juice-bar strip clubs and buy himself a lap dance. Adam had told him that precisely zero of those things interested him. So turning eighteen hadn't feel very special or in any way life changing. He was still stuck in the same place, under his father's fists and his mother's indifference. He wouldn't feel the sweet taste of independence until he was far away from Henrietta, walking the halls of the university of his choosing, finally starting the life he was meant to be living. Maybe then he'd have something to celebrate.

"I wouldn't say 'freaked out' is the right term," Ronan said. "He doesn't like being reminded of it."

"Why not?"

Ronan didn't break his stride as he answered, "Because he's not turning eighteen. He's turning twenty-one."

* * *

 

It didn't take any supernatural ability of foresight for Blue to know this was a bad idea even before she'd agreed to it. But she hadn't had a choice. She was still chafing from that patronizing tone of voice Adam had used on her in the car. She didn't take too kindly to the idea that he felt the need to coddle her like some kind of pretty little doll thing. She didn't need him to hold her hand. Not that she didn't like it when he did, but it was the principle of the thing. She could hold her own around his stupid stuck up rich boy friends. And from the moment Noah had disappeared, her insides had twisted up, organs suddenly gone oblong and packed too tight inside her. She needed to see him safe.

But as soon as Adam's body heat was gone from the side of her, the reality of the position she'd put herself in chilled her skin. Alone in a car with a strange boy after dark. A strange boy who was stuffy and rude and not in the slightest bit pleasant to be around. Everything about this _Gansey_ character cancelled out any of the positive perceptions boys like Adam and Noah brought about Raven Boys. Even Ronan, abrasive and unpalatable as _he_ was, wasn't that particular kind of awful that Blue associated with the young and rich privileged boys of Aglionby Academy. The three of them were all varying degrees of some kind of anomalous exception. But Gansey was the very rule of it. He looked like a (barely) updated Wally Cleaver and he smelled like he wore a cologne that made money through misogynistic advertisements.

And he talked like an asshole.

"Do you want to move up here?" Gansey turned around to face her.

She crossed her arms and looked out the window. "I'm good."

"Well," he took her rejection in stride, which only curdled her insides further. "I was thinking we'd check the skate park first. Noah hangs out there sometimes. Or, well, he used to."

The way Gansey's voice dipped when he said it gave Blue another shock of what it must feel like to be clairvoyant. They weren't going to find Noah at the skate park.

The gelato place was a bust, too, and Blue remained unsurprised. Though she had no fortune-telling prowess of her own and had known Noah for less than 24 hours, she wasn't crushing any false hopes each time they showed up somewhere Gansey suggested and found it Noah-less. It was painful to watch Gansey's optimism, to listen to the cracked certainty in his voice each time he insisted that _this_ would be the place, surely. Noah was supposed to be one of his best friends and it was clear that Gansey had no clue where he was. That he didn't know what to do. That he was afraid.

As much as she found his presence and his general essence overall a distasteful one, she felt an alarming stab of sympathy, watching his Adam's apple bob in his throat as he tried to swallow down the anxiety that was evident on his face and give Blue a wan smile. "We'll find him," he said. It would have been frightening, the way he said it, if it wasn't so sad.

"Hey. Aglionby has a pool, doesn't it?" Blue asked, embarrassed halfway through saying it. She was just grasping at a straw.

"Yes," Gansey answered. "Why do you ask?"

"Maybe we should go there."

Gansey merely gaped at her and she felt the need to explain her outburst.

"I was just thinking...about water."

"Water?" Gansey repeated, as if he wasn't familiar with the term. His eyes were staring into hers in such an unabashed way, she felt a lump in her own throat begin to form.

She cleared it, put on her best _I-Know-Stuff_ voice, and said, "You know, in movies, how whenever someone's gone off somewhere, they often end up at some kind of body of water. Real life works that way sometimes, too. Water can be symbolic for a lot of things. A lot of people feel drawn to it when they're feeling depressed or heartbroken or guilty..." She was babbling now and she had no idea why. "I don't know if Noah…" She trailed off, heat flooding her cheeks. She sounded like an idiot. "I don't know. Nevermind."

She expected Gansey to scoff at the idea, but his face lit up like a dying man who'd been told there was a misunderstanding and he was in fact going to live forever. "Jane, you absolute genius!" She felt herself thrown back against the seat as he pushed on the gas without warning. "Not only in your astute observation about water and its societal, mass-media manufactured, and perhaps somewhat intrinsic impact on the human psyche, but Noah is a swimmer. Or well, he was."

Blue thought, _you keep talking about things Noah was or did in the past tense, what is that about?_ But what shot out of her mouth as they sped off into the night was, "Did you just call me _Jane_?"

"What?" Gansey didn't take his eyes off the road. "Did I?"

"My name," she gritted out, any and all warm and-or fuzzy feelings for the boy across from her evaporated, "is Blue."

"Yes, I know," he replied. He scrunched up his face thoughtfully. "I don't know why I called you Jane. Maybe because you said something rather smart. And Jane is a rather smart name, don't you think?"

"Excuse me?" Blue screeched over the wind rushing through the open windows. "Are you saying my real name is _stupid_? This coming from a boy named _Gansey_?"

"Gansey is my last name," he informed her. "And of course not. Blue is a perfectly fine name. But so is Jane. And it suits you."

"What's your first name?" Blue asked, momentarily more curious than offended.

"Richard."

"I see why you go by Gansey."

Gansey let out a soft snort. "Say that again when Ronan's around. He'll love you for it."

"I can't imagine Ronan loving anything other than loud music and stealing people's lunch money," Blue sniped back.

"You don't know anything about him," Gansey said. There was a quiet authority in his voice that surprised her.

"You don't know anything about _me_!" she shouted, this time for no reason other than her over-boiling anger. The nerve this boy had, to chastise her, when he was the one who— "You can't just decide to call me something because you like it. You don't own me!"

"Oh, don't be absurd!" Gansey was thoroughly scandalized. He muttered under his breath, "Painting me as some sort of brutish neanderthal when I only meant to—"

"And for the record I couldn't care less what Ronan thinks about me, or you, for that matter. I'm only here because—" the words died in her throat. Why was she here? To prove something to these stupid boys, to Adam, to herself? "—because I want to help find Noah."

"Alright then," the car jolted to a rough stop. "Let's go."

But the whole thing was pointless, anyway, because Noah wasn't there.

For some reason, Blue felt like crying.

She took a long gulp of chlorine-infected air and sat down at the edge of the shallow end.

"Sorry," she smacked at the water. "It was a dumb idea."

"No, it wasn't." Gansey said. He sighed and sat down as well, placing ample distance between them. "I'm sorry," he added a moment later. He didn't expand on what exactly he was sorry for.

Blue didn't want to think about it. The way he yo-yo'd between being charming in a doltish hopeless way and utterly repulsive in another. He was just another Aglionby bastard and after tonight, she'd never have to see or talk to him again.

"Has Ronan texted anything?" Blue spoke just to fill the silence.

"No," Gansey replied.

"Are he and Adam still at that park?"

"I would assume so," Gansey's voice was far away, he turned toward her in a sharp, unexpected movement. His shoulders slumped. "I don't know."

Blue bit the inside of her cheek. His resignation was pitiable, and his situation was empathetic, even if he was a clueless jerk.

"I should take you home," Gansey said, "I—I'm not quite myself right now and I don't want—" She furrowed her brows as he floundered. "None of you should be dealing with this. This is my problem. Noah is my problem."

There he went again. Blue was almost ready to forgive him for being a dick earlier.

"Referring to your friends as problems seems like a bigger problem than the friends you think are problems," she scoffed.

Gansey sighed wearily. "That is not what I meant, I—"

"There's another _problem_ you seem to have," she went on ruthlessly. "You sure do say a lot of things that you 'don't mean'. Like telling someone their name is stupid. Or telling Noah to grow up."

Gansey looked at her sharply. "What?"

"That's what you said at Nino's, right before he disappeared," Blue reminded him coldly. "You were acting like some stuffy soccer dad or something, _you're not a child_ ," she imitated his voice badly on purpose. "If that's how you treat your friends then I'd hate to see you around an enemy."

Gansey blinked at her, stunned, hurt, then...smiled. Blue instinctively backed away, various clips of _American Psycho_ flashing through her mind.

"My God, you _are_ a genius." Gansey stood up, and Blue did too, confused.

"I don't disagree, but what do you mean, specifically?"

"I know where Noah is."

This had been a running declaration of the evening, but this time it was different. This time his voice was sure and steady, relieved and sad.

Blue's heart didn't know where to leap or plummet. "What? Where? Is he okay?"

"That's a bit of a large question," Gansey sighed, his waning excitement deflating his face. "I'll explain on the way." He grabbed her hand. "Come on, Blue."

"What happened to Jane?" Blue tripped after him, heart stuttering at the unexpected physical gesture. "I thought I was Jane when I was being smart?"

"Oh, so you _like_ Jane now?"

The only thing Blue was sure that she didn't like right now was his tone. She yanked her hand free. "I don't!"

Gansey's self-satisfied little smile was unnerving in a multitude of ways and in an attempt to sober the both of them she reminded him of his promise the second the doors of the Camaro had slammed shut.

"You said you'd explain everything."

"Did I say _everything_?"

"Yes," she lied confidently.

Gansey sighed as he took a languid right turn. "I don't really know where to start."

"The beginning?" Blue suggested with a cocked eyebrow. Gansey made a disgruntled noise. Blue amended, "Okay. What _did_ you mean when you said Noah was _your problem_?"

"Alright," Gansey said. "Then I guess I should start with the day I died, when I was ten."

Blue crossed her arms and scoffed. "I thought you were being serious."

"I am," said Gansey, in a voice that was terrifying in its casualness. "I accidentally stepped on a hornets' nest—I'm allergic—and they stung me to death."

"And yet," Blue said, "here you are."

"They were able to revive me at the hospital."

"I can't tell if you're messing with me or not."

"I had nightmares about it for so long afterward," Gansey said, which Blue supposed was his way of legitimizing his story, "I'd wake up gasping for air, sobbing, convinced the hornets were all over me again. I stopped sleeping for awhile. I dreaded going outside and avoided it as much as I could. Panic attacks became commonplace, practically my natural state of being. But anyway, that's not the important part."

Blue tried to picture Gansey as a little boy, half-dead all red and swollen in a hospital bed. A traumatized ten year old with insomnia. She compared this image with the current Gansey that now sat beside her, the way he told this story briefly and clinically, like he'd read about it happening to a stranger. She watched him methodically shift gears. For a moment she had this wild impulse to reach out and put her hand over his. She did not act on it.

"I'm sorry," Blue said, hating the way it just fell out of her mouth. Automatic and generic and impersonal. But she didn't know what else to say. "That sounds," instead of continuing to try to be polite and sympathetic, she went with what she was thinking. "Sufficiently horrifying."

"I wasn't scared," Gansey told her mildly. "While the hornets were stinging me, something happened." He looked toward her for a moment, like she was supposed to have some kind of visible reaction to that. "Your mother's a psychic, yes?"

"That's one word for her," Blue agreed, her lips quirking up at one end.

"Then you of all people must understand what I mean," Gansey said, "When I say that I knew with an intangible certainty that I wasn't going to die."

Blue cocked her head sideways. "You mean, you had some kind of vision?"

Gansey shook his head. "I don't think so. I didn't see anything. It was more like...a telling."

"Someone telling you that you were going to live?" Blue asked, almost annoyed. Was she the only person left not hearing voices these days?

Gansey shook his head again, his expression pinched. "No, not that either. It's incredibly hard to explain. And this is the important part."

Blue waited, curious and suspicious and rapt.

"I just knew, I just felt, that...someone was with me in that moment. And they were the reason I was going to live."

"Okay," Blue said slowly. "What, you mean, like God?" She didn't mean for the word to come out so incredulously. But really, all this build up for a Born-Again Christian story?

Gansey laughed, soft and rumbling. "No. Not like God. It was a smaller feeling than that, the tiniest of gestures. But...powerful, all the same. I didn't really understand it. I told my sister Helen about it, but she brushed it off as part of my trauma, my little kid brain imagining fantastical things to cope with the reality of dying and coming back to life. I tried not to think about it. It wasn't until years later, when I was thirteen, that my father happened to be talking to another father at a charity event in Henrietta. Somehow the conversation landed on offspring and my father never really regaled me with the details of it but I like to think it went something like, 'Your son is suffering from crippling anxiety, post-traumatic stress, bordering on agoraphobic tendencies? Why, my son is just the very same! How queer. And yes, probably that as well. We must put the two of them in a room together and see what happens, post-haste.'" He put on a heavy, affected accent while he said this, it reminded Blue of Rhett Butler from _Gone With The Wind_. She couldn't help but snort.

"I can't take credit for that joke," Gansey said. "It's Ronan's handiwork. But my delivery's better. He needs to work on his inflection."

"So that's how you met Ronan?" Blue asked.

"No," said Gansey. "That's how I met Noah."

Noah. _Noah_. Of course. Blue had been so wrapped up in her buoying opinion of Gansey and the way these new facts kept rearranging him in her mind she'd nearly forgotten Noah was the point of the whole story. Her heart squeezed in her chest, opening to beat in double time. _No-ah, No-ah, No-ah._

"I was excited to meet Noah," Gansey told her, his voice switching from the cold indifference that had narrated his near-death experience to something warmer, softer. "I thought he was going to be my salvation. A mentor, big brother of sorts, someone who could relate to me, but more importantly, guide me. Help me. At thirteen, his sixteen seemed like a mountainous gap, he was practically an adult in my mind."

"Wait," Blue's heart stopped altogether. "What?"

"Imagine my surprise when our fathers actually did stick us in a room together. And Noah was so very much a child. Younger than me, even."

"Okay," Blue's head was spinning. "Now I'm really confused. Maybe you should do some kind of hand gesture to denote when you're speaking metaphorically and when you're not."

"Sorry," Gansey sighed. "I'm trying to get to the point."

"So...how old is Noah?" This was suddenly the paramount of Blue's concerns.

Gansey's lips folded into a thin line. "He'll be twenty-one this Saturday."

Blue felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. "I don't understand."

"If you'll allow me to continue my meandering explanation," Gansey said, "Hopefully you will by the end of it."

"Okay," Blue managed to squeeze out of her lungs. "Keep going."

* * *

 

Ronan had forgotten about the girl.

The one who worked at Nino's. The one Adam had spent the morning with.

Or rather, he seemed to have convinced himself she'd never existed in the first place.

He'd imagined it all, that night at Nino's. Adam's head bent down, close to hers, the secret jokes they seemed to be sharing, the casual kisses that passed between them. She'd been a conjured up embodiment of his own fear, rage, desire, jealousy. A small delicate pretty thing that was everything his opposite. Something Adam wanted much more than he'd ever want Ronan.

It was a tall order of self-delusion, but given Ronan's lifelong track record, not very surprising. He'd spent a large chunk of his childhood convincing himself his imaginary friend was real. And then spent the Adam-less years of his adolescence convincing himself that he wasn't.

He'd spent—what?—months convincing himself that he could go to the same school as Adam and not think about him, not want him, not care.

He'd spent years convincing himself that the whole _thing_ between he and Adam had never happened when they were kids. Long before that fateful day in Algebra class. The first time Ronan had ever felt something that was happening to Adam's body as if it was happening to his own in such a visceral and unexpected way.

 _That_ was something Ronan hadn't thought about in awhile.

After the raging onslaught of pubescence wore off, it wasn't so hard to repress. But now that he'd thought of it, he couldn't stop. The years old memory attacked his senses as fresh and vivid as if it were newborn. He could still remember Adam's hushed voice, quietly calling out to him in the middle of the night. He recalled the sensation of Adam being strange and uncertain inside his head. His tone was gentle but his presence was sharp. It stung him awake.

 _Sorry_. Adam had drawn back from him, demurred by his startled reaction. _I thought you were up._

"I am," Ronan assured him quietly, too exhausted for the whole think-to-talk business.

 _I need to talk to you_. Adam was agitated. _I mean, I have to tell you something._

"Okay," Ronan mumbled, rolling over and re-adjusting himself in bed. He pressed himself into the familiar weight of Adam's presence but Adam pulled back further, just out of his reach. Ronan paused, a cool sheet of dread icing over him. "What's wrong?"

 _I don't really know how to say it_ , Adam's voice was squeezed tight. _I just want you to know, I didn't do it on purpose._

Ronan was confused. "Do what?"

 _Earlier_ , Adam went on, _Today. This morning. When I woke up I—I wasn't even trying to reach for you, I swear, it just happened._

"What 'just happened'?" Ronan sighed in frustration. "You're not making sense."

He felt Adam take a deep breath. _I could...feel you. I mean, I felt...you...you know..._

 _Accidentally!_ He tacked on frantically as Ronan tried to understand what about this he was missing, why Adam was so upset.

"So?" He asked. "That happens all the time."

 _No_ , Adam insisted, his discomfort giving way to impatience. _Like, I could really...feel...you._

Ronan waited for more. He didn't understand.

 _Come on, Ronan._ Adam sighed, his agitation prickling. _Don't make me say it. I feel bad enough already._

Ronan's sleep-slowed brain was suddenly booted up and whirring hot, piecing Adam's frantically chopped words together. Humiliation pounded in his veins.

 _Oh_ , Ronan finally said, unable to speak aloud. Another realization came upon him with all the subtlety of a car crash. _Is that why you've been avoiding me all day?_

 _I'm so sorry._ Ronan could feel Adam's embarrassment, his guilt. _I wasn't trying to spy on you or anything. It was just the connection. It pulled me in and I didn't know what to do or how to stop it and—_

 _It's fine,_ Ronan told him quickly. He just wanted this conversation to be over.

 _It's not fine!_ Adam's voice rang in his head like a storm siren. _I feel sick every time I think about it._

The hurt poured out of Ronan too quickly for him to stop it from spilling into Adam. He sucked in his breath, sharp and defensive and so unforgivingly embarrassed. His throat was pinched too tight for him to swallow.

 _Not because—_ Ronan felt Adam struggle with both of their emotions. A choked sensation overtook him. That was all Adam. _It's not_ _ **your**_ _fault._ _ **I**_ _feel bad._

 _What exactly_ , Ronan breathed out shakily, _did you feel?_

He felt Adam's mournful resignation. _You really want me to say?_

They both already knew the answer to that.

So Adam told him. Exactly what he'd felt.

It had taken this long for Ronan to remember that while sometimes Adam could feel everything he felt, he still couldn't read his mind. He might have been able to feel what Ronan was doing but he couldn't tell what he was thinking.

And Ronan swallowed despite the tightness of his throat, his chest, and reasoned.

They shared everything with each other. They always had. It wasn't such a big deal, was it? He voiced as much to Adam, even revealing the fact that he'd also bore accidental witness to such a thing.

 _Wait._ Adam paused. _What?_

Ronan tried his best to explain. The words were thick in his throat, hard and awkward to pull out of his mouth. But if it made Adam feel better, then he could stand the brief torture.

 _Ronan_. Adam was panicked. _If you're messing with me, you better say now._

 _I'm not messing with you_. Ronan's brows furrowed, confusion returning. _I'm just saying...you don't have to feel bad, because it happened to me, too._

 _When?_ Adam demanded.

 _I don't know_ , Ronan searched his brain. _Like, months back._

 _Why didn't you tell me?_ Adam's heart was beating so fast and suddenly Ronan felt like he couldn't catch his breath.

 _I didn't think it was a big deal_. Ronan could feel his own heart rate accelerating. _It was an accident, just like you said. It was kinda your fault, actually._ _ **You**_ _woke me up._

 _You should have told me,_ was Adam's immediate response. _I would have—stopped. That's not...I mean...that stuff is...supposed to be...private._

Ronan felt his stomach and face go hot with shame. It wasn't all his. Though for the first time in his life sharing Adam's emotions felt like something too much too bear.

 _I'm sorry,_ he said. He didn't know what else to say.

For a long time, Adam didn't say anything. Ronan felt his presence detach from him completely, flicker into almost nothing. He waited for Adam to say something but Adam didn't breathe another word. He just hovered at the edge of Ronan's mind, a swirling mass of emotions too far away for Ronan to grasp.

 _Are you mad at me?_ Ronan finally had to ask.

 _No_ , Adam said. _I just feel really weird about it. I mean, don't you?_

'Weird' didn't begin to cover what accidentally feeling Adam touch himself had done to Ronan's insides. He remembered the experience very clearly, for all his time spent pummeling the memory into dust.

_Stomach muscles wrenched tight. Pressure of Adam's fingers, warm and electric._

The tumbling waves of confusion and pleasure and fear that plagued him for weeks after.

Praying it never happened again.

Praying it did.

Though for the sake of solidarity and minimizing as much of Adam's discomfort as he could, he simply said, _Yeah._

 _I guess it makes sense,_ Adam said after another excruciating stretch of silence. _The connection is always pulling us into each other's heads, making us feel what the other is feeling. Like, emotionally. It makes sense it could happen physically, too. Right?_

Ronan didn't know what to do other than agree. It wasn't often that Adam sought out Ronan's validation in anything based in his own logic.

 _I mean_ , Adam went on, _We're, like, teenagers now. You know. We've got all these hormones and urges or whatever. And that's normal. And it's not our fault if—it's not like we choose for the connection to—I mean, it's not like we want that to happen. I mean, I definitely don't. And I know you don't, either. So it's just...it's just not our fault. It's just biology...mixed with whatever the hell this connection is. That's something that's totally beyond our control. Right?_

It also wasn't often that Ronan felt Adam _like this_. So frantically apologetic, so desperate for resolution.

So afraid.

 _You know, let's just not talk about it_ , Adam all but pleaded. _Ever again. We'll be more careful and if it happens again, we'll just ignore it. Okay?_

Ronan's brain was flooded with questions. What did it feel like for you, Adam? Was it tightening stomach muscles and warm pressure and free falling adrenaline? Did it make you feel dizzy sick, like trying to walk straight after spinning around in a circle? Did it feel _good_? Is that why you're so scared?

He wanted to tell Adam that it scared him too. That he didn't know why it felt good or what it meant. That it didn't have to mean anything, if that's what Adam wanted. Maybe that's what scared Adam, the thought that Ronan...felt something he didn't. And what that meant for their connection, for him. But Ronan would never make Adam feel something he didn't want to feel. Even accidentally. He'd teach himself not to feel it, if feeling it hurt Adam.

Instead Ronan said _, Okay._

Because he wasn't an idiot, and because that's what Adam needed to hear.

_Fine by me._

Adam was talking to him, his voice tugging him back to the woods where they now stood face to face, five years later.

Ronan buried his reverie and narrowed his eyes at Adam. "What?"

"Just tell me."

Ronan made a face. "Tell you what?"

"Whatever the fuck's wrong with you," Adam sighed. "You've been weird since this morning. Not just about the Noah stuff. I know when you're pissed, I can feel it."

Ronan's nostrils flared. "Thought you didn't want to fight."

"I'm not trying to fight," Adam scoffed. "But I'm right, aren't I?"

Ronan's mouth took the challenge as permission before his brain could process it. "I guess I just think it's weird you ignored me all weekend, especially after—" _we slept together_ "—we'd just gotten past all the mind games and awkward passive aggressive bullshit. I was fucking _worried_ about you. I thought something—" Ronan sighed. "Never mind. Doesn't matter. So you were just ignoring me. For whatever reason."

"I wasn't ignoring you, at least not on purpose," Adam countered readily, he'd been expecting this. "I was just busy. I was working. I'm sorry you were worried. I should have checked in. But everything was—fine."

It was such a monumentally bullshit answer Ronan didn't even have the energy to be angry about it. The last time he'd seen Adam, he'd been dropping him off at the trailer park in the early hours of the morning. He walked around the rest of the day in an unforgiving daze, tasting Adam's terror on his tongue every time he breathed out. Ronan tried reminding himself that if Adam was getting hit, he'd be able to feel it. But then he'd remember that he hadn't felt anything the last time Adam got hit, so what the fuck? And he'd close his eyes and breathe in and out slowly, legs shaking, practically sitting on his hands so he wouldn't pick up his keys and drive to Adam.

So instead of pressing the subject, Ronan shoved his hands into his pockets. "You never told me about her."

"Her?" Adam looked bewildered for a moment.

"Your new best friend," Ronan bit out. He watched helplessly Adam swallow up his spilling emotions and card his way through them.

"Oh, please." Ronan felt Adam's bubbling amusement. "I think we're a little too old for that now."

"I told you about Noah and Gansey as soon as I met them," Ronan reminded him.

"And that didn't help in the slightest," Adam scoffed. "I was still jealous. And we still got in a fight about it."

"That's not," Ronan batted away the uncomfortable memory. "I'm not—it's just, if she's your—girlfriend—"

"She's not," Adam rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Ronan. What does it matter? I met her when you weren't fucking talking to me. What was I supposed to do? Slip a friendship application into your locker at school?"

Ronan gritted his teeth. If he hadn't been so stupid, so afraid, then Adam wouldn't have ever had to look for solace in someone else. Sharing Adam with Gansey and Noah was one thing. They were his friends and they understood his relationship with Adam was different, separate, and special. But Blue was a stranger and a...a...a _girl_. She could take Adam away from him if she wanted to. In more ways than one. It was a horrible, stupid thing to think that made no sense and yet it did in a way that make Ronan sick to his stomach.

"I don't know how I would have got through those months without her," Adam said, obliviously twisting the knife. "She's a good person."

 _A good person_ would be happy that Adam had found someone that cared about him. Someone that had been there for him when he didn't have anyone else. Ronan tried to squash down his misery.

"You'd like her," Adam went on, tugging at Ronan inside his head. "If you got to know her. She's a little spitfire. Angry at the sun for shining and stubborn as a wild bull. Reminds me of someone else I know."

Ronan's throat made an involuntary guttural noise of contempt.

"Plus, after talking to her cousin this morning, I think we might finally be onto something."

"What do you mean?"

"About us," Adam gestured between them. "The connection. Why it started and what it is. What it means."

"We could make an appointment with her family, they're all working psychics," Adam told him as Ronan's insides began to spin. "We could finally figure this whole thing out."

"Figure it out?" Ronan didn't understand. "You mean, get rid of it again?"

"I don't know," Adam said. "Maybe. If it would make life easier for us. At the very least, I'm sure they could teach us how to control it better."

Ronan didn't know what to say to that.

It was, overall, a very logical step for them to take. And Adam was nothing if not brimming with sense and practicality. But the thought of it split Ronan's insides in a frighteningly unfamiliar way that Ronan couldn't quite describe with words. He thought his old shrink would probably have a word for it, if he told him. He had no idea why he'd just thought of a man he hadn't spoken to in years. Their time together had been confusing and brief, but by some strange miracle, not entirely negative. Even so, Ronan didn't like remembering it. He didn't like remembering a lot of things. Maybe that was his problem. He couldn't deal with a fucking goddamn thing in his life happening, ever. Anything that threatened his own carefully constructed equilibrium was immediately folded into paper and shredded through his fists. And the fists weren't the part that was metaphorical. Adam knew all this. Obviously. Adam knew everything about him, probably better than Ronan did, himself.

And yet after Adam had already turned his world upside down more times than one person should be able to without it being absurd, he seemed intent on continuing the pattern. Why? How could he feel what Ronan felt and at the same time, feel completely differently himself?

God, he hated this. All of it. They _should_ just fucking get rid of the connection. Go their separate ways, forget each other. Because Ronan couldn't deal with this emotional yo-yoing for another goddamn second. It was exhausting. Adam wasn't real, he was, he was part of Ronan, he was something completely separate. Something that belonged to him and something he had no claim over whatsoever.

Adam cocked his head sideways, studying him, quiet and unbothered by the molten lava pumping through Ronan's veins.

"You know," he said, "You don't look at all like I pictured."

Ronan suppressed a startled snort. "Sorry to disappoint. Were you expecting McDreamy?"

Adam chuckled, the sound pushing its way into Ronan's stomach. Adam's laugh was like sinking your fingers into cold, soft dirt. "Kind of. For starters, you told me you had dark curly hair."

"I do," Ronan replied, to which Adam stepped forward to run his hand across Ronan's buzzed head.

"Where is it?"

"Premature male pattern baldness." Ronan ducked away from his touch. "I'm sensitive about it."

Adam laughed again and stepped closer still, less than an inch away. He frowned. "You _are_ taller than me."

Ronan smirked at that, warmth unexpectedly flooding him. "Only by a little."

"Do _I_ look like how _you_ pictured?" The twangy sometimes accent that Ronan had heard less and less over the years dripped from the words.

"I don't know," Ronan said. His tongue felt sticky. "You were hard to pin down."

Adam never really would describe himself in very much detail whenever Ronan broached the subject so he hadn't had much to go off of. For some reason, when he tried to picture Adam, which he often did, his mind conjured up a scrawny boy in suspenders with light eyes and hair that fell in front of his face. This was most likely a result of seeing _Titanic_ at too formative an age.

But all his mental images had remixed themselves into smaller, younger versions of that Adam that stood before him now. He hadn't known how he'd _known_ that Adam was Adam that day at Nino's. One minute he'd been looking at an odd looking stranger and then he'd been looking at Adam. It was hard to remember what Ronan had thought of him, the physical Adam, before he'd known who he was.

Adam reached out to stroke the side of his calloused finger down the bridge of Ronan's nose. Ronan closed his eyes. He knew they needed to focus, needed to find Noah, but Adam's fingers were appallingly distracting.

"It's weird," Ronan felt Adam swallow. "It's like, I keep forgetting you're _you_ , you know?"

"Kind of," Ronan admitted, not really knowing what he was agreeing to. He realized somewhere in the back of his mind that Adam was distracting him on purpose. There was something ever so slightly sinister about it, but layered over top so thickly with raw, genuine affection, Ronan did not remotely have the energy to feel manipulated.

"Like, it would be weird to do this with just anyone," Adam went on, fingers moving to run across Ronan's scalp again. "But you're not just anyone. You're _Ronan_. My Ronan. You know. You're...mine." He felt a thread of shyness twist around Adam's words. It did unspeakable things to the blood inside his body.

Ronan clenched his fists. "What's your point?"

"This is what we always wanted, yeah?" There was no humor in Adam's voice. There was a nostalgic, breathless quality to his words. It was laying in bed with the windows open in the middle of a sticky hot Henrietta summer, two little boys whispering to each other in the dark.

"Yeah," Ronan relented easily, his muscles going lax. He fell against Adam, who was solid and warm, and suddenly understood completely what Adam meant. It was like hugging a very life-like mannequin with Adam's essence inside it. Hugging a stranger. Hugging a memory. "It is weird."

"Beats falling asleep hugging our pillows and pretending." He felt Adam laugh, inside him, against him, the sensation was an oxymoron of stimulation and sedation. "Don't you think?"

Wild inside, he pulled Adam closer, keeping himself steadily separate, just out of mind's reach. Adam smelled like spice and dirt and sweat and something fruity waxy—maybe soap—and gasoline. Their heartbeats were out of sync but that only seemed to cement them together, here in this moment, in reality, for once feeling each other just on the outside. He couldn't completely _feel_ what Adam was feeling but he could sense it, scratching pleasantly at the back of his brain.

"I guess so," Ronan muttered after a moment. Adam snorted into his neck. The vibration sliced through Ronan's hold on himself and the threadbare separation between them and he felt himself tumble clumsily into the familiar territory of their shared connection, and then—past it.

He stiffened in Adam's embrace. Or Adam stiffened in his. He felt Adam's—he felt _Adam_ —he felt himself—his—

 _What_ , Adam's voice rang inside him, _just happened?_

Ronan had no answer for him.

It wasn't like when they played the breathing game, the heartbeat game, this was...beyond that, somehow. Underneath it. When Ronan breathed in he felt the air expand in Adam's lungs, deflate from his own. It wasn't feeling Adam in his own body, it was feeling Adam in Adam's body. And feeling Adam feel himself, in Ronan, feel Ronan in himself. Adam's hands on his back were his arms slung around Adam's shoulders and Adam's cheek pressed against his throat was Ronan's neck, warm and stubbly underneath Adam's cool, smooth skin and Ronan's brain caught on itself, sputtering like a broken clock.

They were—were they—?

Ronan's phone went off in his pocket. The dull buzzing sensation might as well have been a lightning strike. The boys jumped back from each other in surprise, the tight cord of sensation rippling through their entire bodies as it sizzled and slithered out of existence.

"Oh, shit, Gansey texted." Ronan huffed breathlessly. He was still shaking off the lingering aftershocks of whatever they'd just...done. "They found Noah."

It fell flatly out of his mouth, the news somehow anticlimactic, though it had been their prime objective of the entire night.

Still, he found Adam's complete lack of a reaction a little offensive. Ronan wasn't surprised by what Gansey had implied in his message and he hadn't even entertained the thought that they _wouldn't_ find Noah before the night was over. But he'd still been _missing_ , and that, Ronan thought, warranted at least a sigh of relief.

He looked up sharply, lips parted to let loose a scathing remark, and startled at what he saw before him.

Adam was hunched over, his hands clawed over his face. A muffled sound somewhere between a retch and a horrible sort of coughing _squelch_ erupted from him, accompanied by a dark splatter of some kind of liquid.

"What the fuck?" Ronan's heart dipped lopsidedly in his chest as he rushed toward Adam. He held the phone up to his face, still half covered by shaking hands that were dripping bright red.

"Jesus Christ," Ronan breathed. He reached out for Adam frantically and felt a rush of pressure and popping in his nasal cavity. "Fuck, Adam, come here, let me see—"

"My uniform," Adam choked out, spitting blood an impressive amount of distance. "Shit—I can't—help me—"

Ronan moved without thinking, dropping his phone to the ground and shrugging off his jacket and ripping at his shirt until it was off, too. "Move your hands," he commanded, balling the material up and pressing it to Adam's face."

 _My uniform—_ Adam said again — _it's ruined—fuck—I can't—_

"No, it's not." Ronan told him, unsure of whether this was true or not. "Just calm down. I've got you."

He repeated the last few words a few more times, silently, hoping it would have more impact that way.

 _Is it just your nose?_ Ronan asked. _Or is the blood coming from somewhere else, too?_

 _I've never had a nosebleed_ , Adam told him. _I don't know. I think so._

_You think it's just your nose or you think it's somewhere else?_

_Just my nose._

_Here, pinch this to your nose,_ Ronan told him, demonstrating with his own hands. _Look down, not up._

He reached down to retrieve his phone and slipped his jacket back on, a ridiculous look over his bare torso.

He quickly sent a text to Gansey and then returned to attending Adam, grabbing him by the shoulders now and turning him around so they could walk back the way they'd come. _Come on_ , he said. _I'm taking you back to Monmouth so we can get you cleaned up._

_But Noah—_

_Gansey and Blue are on it._ Ronan pushed him forward. _We should go back to Monmouth, anyway, in case he comes home before they can get to him._

 _My uniform_ , Adam lamented for the third time.

 _It's fine_ , Ronan growled, trying not to be annoyed that was all Adam seemed to care about. _We can fucking wash it when we get there. Trust me, I know how to get blood out of clothes._

Adam huffed out a mournful sigh, but let Ronan continue to guide him out of the park all the same.

In the end, Adam's clothes _were_ fine. It was just his face and hands (and Ronan's now soaked-through shirt) that looked like something out of a slasher movie. Ronan tossed him a washcloth and directed him to the bathroom.

He tried to busy himself while he waited for Adam to return, but he was restless, agitated nearly to the point of mania. From Noah's disappearance to resurfacing uncomfortable memories to dealing with the fact that Adam had _someone_ who wasn't him, to the connection going fucking haywire crazy the way it had for that indescribable moment, to Adam's face spontaneously spurting out a geyser of blood, it had all been what some might call, quite a day.

And then suddenly the anxiety Ronan was feeling wasn't completely his own. A big wave swelled up from Adam. Ronan knocked on the bathroom door. "Everything okay in there?"

"Adam?" He called when he got no response. "Are you okay? Did the bleeding start again?" He turned the knob but the door was locked. Offense prickled in his stomach. "Let me in."

"I'm—fine," Adam called back shakily. "It's just…" Ronan knew the cold, swampy feeling of Adam's fear instantaneously. "You're going to be mad at me."

The way he said it would have pissed Ronan off, if it wasn't so...horrifying. He reminded himself of the kind of dynamic Adam had grown up in, learning from an early age to always be tiptoeing on eggshells, ready for the punishment that was always right around the corner.

"Dude, I don't give a fuck about the shirt. Just let me in. I need to check if there's swelling and shit."

After a long bout of silence, Ronan heard the click of the lock and stepped back as the door slowly swung open.

"Move back into the light so I can—" Ronan's eyes widened at the sight of Adam. "Holy shit."

"It's not that bad," Adam said this automatically, robotically, like a talking doll that had a small set of phrases programmed into it and this was one of them.

"This is...all my fault," Ronan breathed, the realization of it knocking the wind out of him. "I don't know what I did, back there, why the connection….it was an accident."

Adam blinked at him dazedly for a moment, then his entire expression sharpened, hyper-alert. He cocked his head as if making a decision, then lowered his eyes and sighed. "You didn't do this, Ronan."

"Not on purpose, maybe," Ronan shook his head, guilt sour and scorching in his throat. "But I shouldn't have...reached that far. Something happened. I mean, you felt it, right? Fuck, I know you felt. I could fucking feel you feeling it. What the fuck was that? I don't know. But something happened. And it fucked you up. I don't know, I don't know how I—"

"Ronan," Adam said his name his again, so devoid of _any_ emotion that it startled him. "You didn't do this."

Ronan stared at him and as he noticed the color of the bruises on Adam's face the meaning of his words became clear.

"I don't understand," Ronan said. "They weren't there earlier."

"That's what I was doing at Blue's house this morning," Adam said, looking up and away. "She was helping me, you know," he gestured to his face. "Cover it up."

And as with most things, Adam had been right.

Ronan was fucking furious.

* * *

 

"I think you should," Gansey spoke softly, "Stay in the car."

"What?" Blue was already unbuckling her seatbelt. "Why?"

"Noah is not in a good place right now," Gansey's voice was tight. "The fact that he's come _here_...I just...I don't want to put you in any danger."

"Danger?" Blue's eyes nearly popped free from her skull. "You think Noah would _hurt_ me? Just out of curiosity, do you hear yourself, like, when you talk?"

"I believe in love at first sight as much as the next hopeless romantic," Gansey said. "But with all due respect, you don't actually _know_ Noah. He's made a lot of progress as of late, but he has a history of—"

"What?" Blue snapped, bristling at his rude and inaccurate implication.

"Instability," Gansey answered vaguely.

"I can handle myself." Blue crossed her arms, leaned back against her seat. "It's not his fault he's all fucked up because his best friend tried to kill him."

"I never said it was," Gansey didn't sound offended at her bluntness, just tired. "And I'm not just thinking of you, I'm thinking of Noah, too. I don't even know if he'd be comfortable with the fact that I've told you all this. I don't know what he's thinking right now, something could set him off, he could do something...regrettable."

"Has he ever hurt anyone?" Blue asked. She couldn't imagine it. Just like she couldn't imagine Adam ever hurting anyone. She felt these things with such an overpowering sense of certainty she supposed maybe she was a sort of psychic after all. She knew if someone was capable of violence or if they weren't.

"No," said Gansey, and Blue breathed out, inappropriately satisfied with herself.

"Look," Gansey's voice changed to an octave Blue wouldn't have been able to recognize if she were not currently looking right at him. "One of my best friends over there," he pointed to the spot Blue had been avoiding making eye contact with. "Lying on the side of the road. And not just any side of any road, but the very side of the very road in which this aforementioned best friend brutally bashed his face in an attempt to murder him. So as much as I appreciate your blind faith in someone who I do believe deserves it, I think it would be best if you stayed in the car and let me go talk to him alone."

Blue curled up like a shrinking violet, her pride blown staggeringly as she took in Gansey's words, and realized he was right. This was about Noah's well-being, not Blue's feelings for him, pure and innocent as they may be. And Blue was a near stranger to him. If Noah needed anyone right now, it _was_ Gansey. No one else.

Gansey took out his phone and handed it to her. "If I raise up three fingers, it means call 911. Otherwise, I'll signal you over if Noah says it's okay."

Blue held onto the phone with both hands and watched helplessly as Gansey exited the vehicle and walked over to where Noah was prone on the ground. Her entire heart seemed to be lodged in her throat as she watched him kneel to the ground beside Noah's body, slowly and cautiously, like he was approaching a wounded deer. She squinted in the darkness, unable to make out the words Gansey was making with his mouth. Noah didn't move. Blue held her breath, like she was crossing over a bridge in a car and making a wish, a habit Calla had indoctrinated in her when she was a child.

Noah sat up and Blue's lungs expanded, taking in air like she'd been deprived of it for an uncomfortable amount of time. She could see Gansey talking more unknown words but Noah's back was to her and she had no idea if he was responding or not.

Eventually, the two of them looked back toward the car, toward her. She jumped like she'd been caught spying. Gansey jerked his head to the side, motioning her to come. Now she felt horribly awkward and out of place, her legs felt like jelly as she gracelessly managed to stumble out of the car and over to where the two boys sat.

Noah smiled weakly up at her and she felt her insides rearrange. It was like the feeling one got from a story in which a treasured character thought dead shows up at a critical juncture, alive, and saves the day. She'd never known someone who could make you feel like you were in a fairytale just by smiling.

She sat down next to him and returned his smile as best as she could. "Hey, you."

Noah closed his eyes and turned his head away from her. "Gansey says he told you everything."

"I—" Blue wasn't prepared for the confrontation. "He, well, he told me _some_ things." She looked toward Gansey for help but he said nothing. "We were just worried and we wanted to find you."

"I'm sorry," Noah said softly. "For making you all worry. I didn't mean to."

Blue opened her mouth to say something comforting but Noah spun his head back around to look at her and went on before she could. "Sometimes I wish I could just disappear for awhile, you know? Not just physically. But, in every way. I could just...fade out...you know? And none of my family or friends would be sad or miss me because they wouldn't even realize I was gone."

"I know what you mean," Blue said, which wasn't entirely a lie. She couldn't relate to feeling something like that, but she understood what he was saying. It frightened her, a little. How much he meant it.

"But that's not possible," she added, a surprising spark of confidence flicking on inside her. "So you can't just run off like that. Because you've got a lot of people in your life who will worry about you and will miss you." She even let herself scowl at him. "Sucks to be you, huh?"

She felt Gansey's hard gaze on her but Noah let out a small laugh. "It's okay," he said to no one in particular. "I deserved that." And then his face scrunched up and he looked away from her again.

When he spoke, his voice was rough. "I didn't want you to know all this about me."

"I'm sorry," Blue whispered, wanting to reach out and wrap her arms around him and forcing herself to stay still. "Don't be mad at Gansey for telling me. I forced it out of him. There was some psychological manipulation involved."

She met Gansey's eyes over Noah's head for a moment, and the way he was looking at her flipped her stomach in a not altogether unpleasant way. She quickly brought her attention back to Noah.

"I'm not mad," he said, looking at his hands in his lap. "It's just...embarrassing. I wanted you to like me."

"I do like you," Blue said, hardly pausing to think. "Why would that change just because—" she swallowed, thankfully remembering to think this time before she choosing her next words. "Someone hurt you."

"I'm almost twenty-one years old," Noah said, which seemed non-sequitur but Blue stayed quiet and let him talk. "My only two friends are seventeen year olds. In high school. And I'm only in high school because one of those seventeen year olds happens to have a very influential family who took pity on me."

"Hey," Blue said, taking note of the hurt on Gansey's face. "That's not fair."

"I'm not saying I'm not grateful," Noah said. "I just don't know if it's a good thing. I don't know if— _if_ I'm a good thing."

Blue frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I just don't want to be like him." Noah pressed his hands to his eyes, sniffing hard. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with tears. "I don't wanna be _like that_ , hurting people because they're _young_ , you know, I don't want to hurt anyone."

Suddenly Blue was blinking back tears herself. The story Gansey had told her was unfathomably awful, but she hadn't really put that piece of it together. Or perhaps her brain hadn't yet allowed her to process it. Her throat had gone very dry, but what she had to say was incredibly important, so she forced the words out hoarsely.

"You're not like him, Noah."

Noah wiped at his eyes and sniffed again. He took a deep breath and looked straight ahead.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." The words came out stronger and more seriously than she'd ever heard Noah's voice. "The stuff I said back at Nino's. I shouldn't have. I'm sorry. Sometimes I forget myself. What Gansey said was true and he was right to call me out on it. I'm not a child. And I'm sorry."

Blue let these words sink in for a good, solid moment before she decided how to respond.

She reached forward slowly with her hands, sliding them over Noah's. They were pitifully cold. She wove their fingers together and squeezed.

"Noah," she said, because she'd grown awfully fond of saying his name. "Look at me."

He turned his face to hers and met her eyes levelly, ready for whatever she had to say. She liked him, in that moment, more than she'd ever liked anyone.

"You're not bad, you're just a little messed up." He winced but didn't break his gaze.

"I don't say that to be mean," she went on, "I think we're all pretty messed up, just speaking for the present party. And that's not even counting Adam and Ronan, who are, in my humble opinion, in an entirely separate category of _what the fuck_."

Noah's lips twitched upward ever so slightly. She felt a heady rush of adrenaline at the sight of it. She ought to tell Noah one of these days that he had an unprecedentedly powerful mouth.

But for now there were more pressing matters at hand. "You're not hurting anyone. Least of all me. For a multitude of reasons, but one very particular reason I think you might find reassuring. You know why?"

Noah shook his head, like a rapt child following along with a bedtime story.

She leaned in close to him, slowly, carefully, gauging the way his body reacted to hers. He smelled surprisingly warm and sweet, like a fresh baked good. She turned her head so her lips pressed softly against his ear.

"I turned eighteen in August," she whispered, then tilted her head so she could press a soft kiss to the side of his face, right on the smudgy bit. She leaned back. "So I hate to break it to you, but you're not the only adult around here."

* * *

 

"I think you're being unfair," Adam said, to which Ronan nearly imploded in on himself.

"Unfair?" He balked wildly. "You really want to talk about un fucking fair, when _this_ ," he gestured at Adam's bruised face, "This is the kind of shit I'm just expected to put up with? And just, what? Be fucking fine with?"

"I don't know what you want me to say," Adam shrugged, then scoffed. "Fuck, I don't know what you want me to _do_. You think I like the fact that someone else has to deal with this? My God, Ronan, why do you think I tried to sever our connection in the first place?"

"That's not what I mean and you know it!" Ronan couldn't help how loud he was getting, how close to hysterics he was. "Jesus fucking Christ, Adam, you can't be this dense. I don't give a _fuck_ about the fact that I can feel it when you get hit. Not that I even felt this, or the last time you got hit, which I don't understand at all. I give a fuck about the fact that you're the one feeling it at all. What if this was happening to me? What if someone was hurting me, really hurting me, all the fucking time, and you couldn't do anything about it? How would that make you feel?"

He watched Adam, who was keeping his emotions closed in very tightly to himself at the moment, visibly swallow. "It would upset me. I mean, obviously. And I understand that it upsets you—"

"No," Ronan shook his head. "No, you don't fucking understand. You don't. You didn't understand then and you don't understand now."

"Okay, you're right. I'm wrong. I'm sorry." Adam was rattling off one of his pre-recorded phrases again and it only stoked the fire in Ronan's brain.

"Don't you dare," Ronan hissed, his heart cracking in his chest. "Don't fucking talk to me like that. Like you're afraid of me. Like I'm him."

"I'm sorry," Adam said, and this time it was laced with cold, bitter sarcasm. "How would you like me to talk to you when you're screaming at me?"

"I'm not—" Ronan's voice scratched in his throat. He took a breath. Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck._

"I'm sorry," he said, forcing his voice out softer, quieter. He felt an overwhelming pressure building in his chest. He'd never felt so out of control, so helpless, in his life. Not since the night before his fifteenth birthday, when Adam had left him. He closed his eyes and put his hands over his face, breathing deeply.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I yelled—I didn't mean—"

 _I'm scared_ , he admitted in his head, the words too big to say out loud. _This scares me. And I hate feeling this way. And I don't know what to do and I'm scared._

Adam couldn't keep his guilt so close that Ronan couldn't feel it. _I'm sorry._

"Stop," Ronan moaned aloud, letting his hands fall to his sides. "Don't apologize to me. I'm the one—I just—" He sighed, shook his head. "I hate this."

"I know," Adam said, moving closer to him, "I…" he laughed humorlessly. "I don't know what else to say besides _I'm sorry_."

" _I'm_ sorry," Ronan said, rolling his eyes.

"Now you're just copying me."

"Shut the fuck up," Ronan snarled, lovingly. He sniffed and wrung his hands. _Come here._

It came out rougher than he'd intended. Though Adam only scoffed and obeyed with a chiding, _Only because you asked so nicely._

He wrapped himself around Adam like he was buoy in the middle of the ocean. Adam's hand made its way back up to his scalp again. He felt wretchedly undeserving of the comfort and pleasure it brought him.

He should be the one comforting Adam. He'd fucked this up completely. Reacting first and caring later. Like always. With a great deal of effort, he wrenched himself back from Adam and brought his hands up to cup his face, forcing Adam to look at him. He stroked his thumb as softly as he could over the part that was bruised. "You don't deserve this," he said, which was a very big thing to say, bigger than his fear he kept silent, but some things _needed_ to be said out loud. "You never have."

Adam squirmed under his touch, uncomfortable.

Ronan didn't back down. "You have to know that. You do know that, don't you?"

Adam closed his eyes. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You don't have to talk," Ronan said. "Just fucking listen to what I'm saying. And believe it. Because it's true."

 _Ronan…_ Adam's voice was a warning in his head.

"I'm sorry for reacting the way I did," Ronan went on. "You didn't deserve that either. This whole thing just makes me fucking crazy. I can't stand you getting hurt. I can't stand it."

 _I know_ , Adam said.

"I don't think you do," Ronan said. "But that's my fault, because I don't say shit like this enough."

Adam made a face. He wasn't taking this seriously.

Ronan was. "I love you, you know."

He felt Adam's insides rattle, startled, before he closed himself off again.

"And it hurts," Ronan pressed on, "Seeing the people you love get hurt. And it sucks when there's nothing you can do about it. But, if _this_ is all I can do, then, I just want you to know...that...you know…" He floundered for an ending to his half-assed speech. "You don't fucking deserve this shit and I...I'm...here for you." He had to force himself not to roll his eyes, he hated the way he sounded. It wasn't really what he wanted to say. It wasn't _really_ what he felt. It was a very carefully censored and diet-lite version of the truth.

"Is the part where you get down on one knee?" Adam joked.

Ronan scoffed. "I'm pouring my fucking heart out over here, asshole."

"I know," Adam said. "I just don't know what you want me to say to...all that."

"Nothing," Ronan said. "That's the whole point of loving someone unconditionally, dumbass, you're not supposed to want something in return."

Adam shook his head, smirked in spite of himself. "Are you supposed to call the people you love _dumbass_?"

Ronan cocked his head. "What else would I call them?"

Adam looked down and made a small, quiet noise of amusement, but didn't speak. Not for a long moment. When he looked up again, his face was almost too much of a thing for Ronan to bear, but he forced himself not to look away.

"Ronan," he said, and the way he said it would keep Ronan awake for several nights to come. He looked at him like he was something amazing to behold. He was quiet again. And then he said, "I thought I made you up."

It wasn't "I love you, too", but it was _something_. Very some thing.

"In retrospect," Ronan replied, trying to keep his heartbeat under control. "The whole thing's kind of stupid. Like a bad Hallmark movie."

Adam sneered delightedly. "You watch Hallmark movies?"

"I'm just saying," Ronan ignored the accusation. "It doesn't really make sense. If you'd made me up, you would have made me...different...right?"

Adam narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know," Ronan groaned. "We argued. We got on each other's nerves. Didn't you ever wonder _why_ you invented someone so annoying?"

"Every day," Adam answered. "What about you?"

Ronan shook his head. "I knew why I made you up." There was an inconvenient truth. One he'd scarcely ever admitted even to himself.

"Oh yeah?" Adam seemed amused by this. "Why?"

Ronan opened his mouth and closed it. For a moment, he actually thought about just laying it all out there. But tonight didn't really seem like the best time for such a thing.

As if the cosmic pull of the universe agreed with him, his phone rattled from the table where he'd placed it earlier. "That'll be Gansey," he said, untangling himself from Adam to go retrieve it.

"He says he's taking Blue home, they've got Noah, he's fine, well—I mean—I told you what he is."

"Fine's a stretch, I'd imagine," Adam agreed. "But, fuck, I'm glad he's okay."

"He's tough," Ronan said, relief and fondness saturating his words. "He'll be alright."

"Well," Adam cleared his throat. "If Gansey has the Noah situation under control, I really should get home."

 _You could just stay here._ Ronan replied.

Adam sighed in his head. _I can't. Not tonight._

Ronan had not meant 'tonight', but again, for once in his life foresight seemed to be gifting him with its prowess. There was no use putting him on the spot. There was no way he would accept and it would only make him feel like shit for even being offered. He knew Adam didn't _want_ to be in the situation he was in. But for the time being, in a completely terrifyingly fucked up way, it was what he needed.

Ronan _was_ going to get Adam out of there. That was a given. But if he forced his way in, pushed and prodded until Adam just _broke_ , then what was the point? He was no better than the people who were hurting him now. Going back there, back to that fucking place, was the last thing Adam wanted to do, but for his reasons he felt that he had to. So, much accustomed to bearing the same burdens, Ronan said the very last thing he wanted to say.

"I'll drive you home."


	8. Body

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tl;dr: adam thinks too much and yet not at all

_ Hold me in your arms  
Shake me 'til I fall apart _

"[Body](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=szj_S58EY7U)" – Wet

Being hungry sucked.

Adam hated how such a powerful feeling left him so weak. It felt like an admission of guilt. Failure. An inability of some kind.

Being sent to bed without dinner was a common occurrence in the Parrish household. In retrospect, Adam logically understood it was nothing but a fucked up power trip or an excuse to have more food to himself, but smaller Adam only understood that he was hungry because he'd done something wrong.

He'd been sent to bed without dinner the first night he'd ever talked to Ronan, which didn't really mean anything in particular, but it was something he thought about a lot. His hunger was attached to Ronan in that way and he could never stop his mind from wandering to him whenever he was trying to sleep on an empty stomach.

"Are you sick?" Ronan had asked him one night, 10 years old and very blunt. Not that age had changed that in the slightest.

"No," Adam had replied, grateful for the distraction of Ronan's warm presence. He leaned into it, a child yearning for comfort. "Why?"

"Your stomach feels like it hurts," Ronan told him, clinically, as if he was diagnosing him. "I think you have a stomach ache."

"Sorry," Adam shrunk back, shockingly embarrassed that Ronan could feel what felt like his dirtiest secret.

"It's okay," Ronan pulled back at him. Adam could feel his muscles straining with the effort. He wanted to curl into Ronan's heat and he was alone in room with the imaginary boy who lived in his head so he did.

"You should drink some ginger ale," Ronan told him. "And eat some crackers. Or pretzels."

"I can't," Adam whispered back, tucking his face into the crevice between his pillow and mattress, shamed. "I'm not allowed."

Ronan's confusion was palpable. "Why not?"

"Got in trouble," Adam mumbled, his cheeks flushing uncomfortably hot.

"For what?" Ronan wanted to know.

"Just in trouble," said Adam. He didn't know how or want to explain it.

"And you're...not allowed to...eat?" Adam could feel the cogs turning in Ronan's brain. Piecing the facts together. Adam felt sick.

"Maybe," Ronan spoke to Adam's silence, "If you tell your parents you're sick, they'll let you have something. Just to make your stomach feel better."

Adam shook his head slowly, he felt his body beginning to tremble, his throat tightening with what was threatening to become a sob. He swallowed it back down and squeezed his eyes shut.

Ronan was quiet for an agonizingly long moment, then said, "Maybe I could eat something."

Adam was startled. "What?"

"I mean," Ronan's presence shifted around in Adam's head. "If I can feel your stomach hurting, I was just thinking, if I ate something, maybe you would feel that, too."

Adam shook his head again. "I don't think so."

"Well, I'm still going to try," Ronan huffed back, indignant that his theory was accurate. "What do you want?"

"Huh?"

"To eat, dummy."

Adam had never been asked that question before and his answer was an honest one. "I...don't know."

"Do you like sandwiches?" Ronan suggested. "That would be easy to make."

"But," he added, "I'll make the pizza rolls if you really want them."

"I like sandwiches," Adam said, very quietly, feeling something wild and untamable stirring in his empty stomach.

"What kind of sandwich?" Ronan asked.

Adam shrugged. "I don't know. I don't care."

"Peanut butter and jelly?"

"Sure."

"We only have strawberry jelly," Ronan sighed. "Gross."

"I like strawberry," Adam told him.

"Gross," Ronan said again.

"You don't have to eat it," Adam reminded him. "Just forget it. It's not going to work, anyway."

"Yes it is," Ronan argued back. "And I'm already making it."

"Well," Ronan said after a few minutes of silence. "Is it working?"

"Are you eating it?" Adam asked. He couldn't feel anything.

"Yes," Ronan's voice was disgusted. "It's gross."

Adam's stomach ached, empty as ever. Imagining Ronan scarfing down a full sandwich only seemed to make it worse. But the fact that Ronan made something he didn't even like, just for him, was incredibly...distracting.

"It's working," he told Ronan. "I feel better now."

"Told you it would!" Ronan shot back smugly. "Can't believe I ate that nasty jelly just for you. You better appreciate it."

"I do," Adam murmured, imagining what Ronan looked like when he smiled in that arrogant way Adam could just feel. He thought Ronan probably had a nice smile, perfectly straight white teeth and all.

"I can still taste it," Ronan complained, moaning in agony.

Adam had fallen asleep that night perfectly content to simply imagine the wretched taste of strawberry stuck in Ronan's mouth.

The problem was that the next time Ronan had been made aware of Adam's lack of a way to feed himself, he'd wanted to do it again.

"Oh", Adam had to stretch to remember what Ronan was even talking about. "You know that didn't actually work, right?"

"No." Ronan replied, dumbfounded. "Wait. What? What do you mean?"

Adam recounted the night of the strawberry jelly sandwich from his own point of view.

Ronan was silent for awhile. "So you lied to me?" Then he said, "That's mean."

"Mean?" Adam was confused. "I felt bad that you'd wasted food and eaten something you didn't like. I was just trying to be nice."

"You made me feel like I was helping you," Ronan told him. "When I really wasn't. That's not nice, Adam."

Adam didn't understand and he certainly didn't agree. Their debate turned into an argument and Adam didn't like the way Ronan's emotions were doing that thing where they spilled all over him, almost suffocating, to the point where Adam realized his own feelings didn't matter. His side of the story didn't matter. All Ronan cared about was being loud and angry and letting his hurt be known. Suddenly he was the victim of the narrative and Adam was the enemy. Adam didn't think he'd done anything wrong, except unknowingly hurt Ronan's feelings. But Ronan was so far gone in his own self-created drama that he didn't even care about an apology, either. He just wanted to fight. That's what the problem was. Adam was trying to mediate, trying to apologize while still holding his own ground, trying to come up with a solution. But that only upset Ronan further. He told Adam not to treat him like a baby. Adam, completely exhausted, gave up. He pulled away from Ronan altogether, wondering why he'd invented someone so hostile and overbearing to be his imaginary friend.

It took only hours for them both to get over it. The don't-talk-to-me aftermath from their fights never lasted very long. When Ronan came back it was not with an apology or any other kind of explanation. He'd just waited out the allotted time constraint that he seemed to think was an appropriate measure of whatever the fight was, and then he'd appear in the back of Adam's head like he owned the place, ready to tell Adam about a comic book he was reading or a bird he'd seen on the way home from school. It was his way of saying the fight was over and he wasn't angry or upset anymore.

That bothered Adam, but his own staunch moral code forbade him from holding grudges. He didn't want to be like his dad, who seemed to keep such an immaculate record of every time Adam screwed up, Adam had to wonder if he had a long handwritten list hidden away somewhere. He held on to his anger and let it build and build on top of itself until it was a fiery volcano of rage. Adam thought he must have liked being angry, if he needed to remind himself of long since past things to be angry about whenever he was in the mood to yell and throw things.

When Adam decided he was done being angry about something then it meant he was done. And he'd already decided to stop being angry at Ronan, so instead of focusing on how insensitive and selfish Ronan could be sometimes and letting it fester into a big poison bubble of resentment, he reminded himself of all the things he liked about Ronan instead. He forced himself to think logically. He knew Ronan didn't act that way because he meant to hurt him. Just like Adam hadn't meant to hurt Ronan's feelings, either. Ronan's good qualities outweighed his bad ones and just because he made mistakes didn't mean he didn't care about him. Adam would turn these truths around in his head until he felt his breath cool and his fists unclench. It was a good way to keep the volcanic eruption at bay. He thought his dad ought to try it some time.

* * *

Adam was hungry again. Tonight it was a more subtle kind of punishment. He'd gotten home late from work and his parents were already asleep. He'd learned a long time ago from television and movies and the way other kids around him talked about their lives that a normal home would have food there waiting for him. Wrapped up in the fridge or being kept warm in the oven. If nothing else, ingredients or frozen dinners to make something for himself. In the Parrish home there was no food that was allowed to him without asking and waking up his parents in the middle of the night to ask for food, of all things, was such a ridiculous image Adam had to stifle a laugh as he rolled himself into bed. He clicked the tiny button that protruded from the side of his cheap, plastic watch and the display glowed a bright lime green in the dark of his room. It wasn't  _that_  late. Not so late that he couldn't roll over and blindly reach for Ronan, which he did.

 _What's wrong?_  Ronan asked, quietly comforting inside his head.

 _Nothing_ , Adam lied, cool and easy. The phantom touch of Ronan's finger traveling leisurely up and down his neck pulled a soft, contented sound out of him.

That was new. Ever since the night of Adam's inexplicable nosebleed, the connection had been…

Adam wasn't quite sure how to describe it. Not stronger, necessarily. It had become easier to reach and therefore using the amount of force they were used to exerting resulted in things like this. Pulling so close that they could practically touch. It wasn't like the way being touched in real life felt. Kind of the opposite. The touch pulsed from deep inside Adam and seeped its way out until he could feel it on his skin. It was strange. But fascinating.

The sensation dissipated as soon as Ronan realized what he'd been doing. The other new thing to come out of that night was Ronan's increasingly annoying paranoia. He blamed himself for the incident and was trying to be more careful about how far he pushed himself into Adam's space.

Adam didn't think it had anything to do with that. He thought about the connection a lot now and as much fun as that never ending rabbit hole of theories and possibilities was, he'd spent half his life with this impossible, maddeningly intrusive, physic-law-defying thing as part of his world. And this wasn't the first time it had morphed into something else. He'd already reminded Ronan about the headaches they used to get, that horrible pounding migraine the night before they'd been suddenly able to communicate soundlessly. This seemed to fall under that same pattern. He hadn't gotten another nosebleed since. But Ronan cared nothing for all this logic and insisted on being a fuss instead.

 _Hey_ , Adam complained at the loss of the sensation at the back of his neck. He writhed about churlishly in his bed, making his displeasure clear.

 _I don't mean to do that_ , Ronan told him, uselessly rueful.

 _I was enjoying myself_ , Adam replied, which Ronan already knew. They'd been spending the entire week in each other's heads only. Adam opted out of school while he waited for his bruise to fade and Ronan had been loathed to attend so he could collect Adam's homework and take notes in his stead. Adam meanwhile had snatched up all the extra shifts he could carry.

 _Are you gonna come back?_ He asked Ronan plaintively.

 _Are you going to tell me what's wrong?_  was Ronan's prickling reply.

_Didn't know I wasn't allowed to want some quality time with my headmate._

_Never say that word again_ , Ronan hissed at him.  _And I didn't know we were back to keeping things from each other._

 _You're so dramatic._ Adam scoffed.  _I'm just exhausted from work and I don't feel good. I just wanted you here._

Ronan's tone shifted significantly.  _I can come get you._

 _No,_ Adam told him.  _I don't have the kind of manic energy required for sneaking out tonight._

And there was something about being physically far apart but connected so closely just in their heads that Adam found invaluable. Of course, being in the same physical space as Ronan was…incomparably necessary. But this was so easy, so familiar, so safe.

 _You still coming out with us tomorrow?_ Ronan asked, inching himself back into Adam's space, close enough that Adam could feel the invisible weight of him in his bed as if he was lying right there next to him. Adam flushed. It was oddly thrilling. The surreality of it. The visceral response that roiled inside him, shooting him up with adrenaline and high octane anticipation.

 _Yeah,_ Adam answered, turning around ideas in his brain.  _I have to work, though. Til five at least._

 _I know,_ Ronan huffed.  _We're gonna pick you up from there and head straight to the bar._

 _Bar?_ Adam asked, startled from his own nefarious plans.

_There's this place in Bristol. I'm driving. They won't card us. We have it all figured out._

_I don't know about all that,_ Adam said after a long moment of silence. All at once he felt woefully out of place. He longed to force himself to transform the feeling into something else, but the idea of being packed in some seedy dive crowded by old redneck drunks and, apparently, underage minors made his stomach turn. He knew Noah was turning twenty-one and it was a rite of passage, but no matter how he twisted it around in his mind, he couldn't make the experience seem bearable.

 _What?_ Ronan prompted, very aware of Adam's less than enthusiastic response.

 _I'm not,_ he said, because he had to say something,  _really into drinking._

Ronan snorted.  _We're not going there to drink, we're going there to dance._

 _Dance?_ Adam was even more thrown by this than the initial surprise.

 _It's like a nightclub,_ Ronan explained.  _And they're having this big dance party, for Halloween, you know, and Noah loves that kinda shit. And it's his birthday, so._

Adam sighed. He'd just have to push his own feelings down into dust and get over it.

 _I know it's lame._ Ronan misinterpreted Adam's sour reaction.  _But it's for Noah._

At Adam's silence, he added,  _You don't have to come if you don't want to._

Adam liked Noah. He wanted him to have fun on his birthday. He deserved it. But he'd be lying if he said that was the driving force behind his resignation to submit himself to this plan. He hadn't seen Ronan in a week now and it was really starting to suck. He didn't know how, in the past, they'd ever survived without being together in person. He had completely spoiled himself on Ronan Lynch.

He pulled at the fuzz on his scratchy blanket.  _Well,_  I  _already told my parents I'm working late, so I've gotta fill that time slot with something._ Though, this admission reminded him of another problem.  _I can't be out super late, though. So I'd have to get a ride home at some point._

 _It's a bar,_ Ronan told him.  _Not a desert cult. You can leave whenever you want._

_Is anyone gonna be sober?_

_I will be,_ Ronan replied, clearly chafed by the question.  _I told you I'm driving._

 _Excuse me for not knowing all the ins and outs of the situation. I wasn't around when this was all being planned._ Nor was he consulted on the details, but that'd be rude to point out. It wasn't his decision to make.

 _You're excused,_ Ronan's reply was deeply somber, which meant he wasn't in the mood to fight but was in the mood to be an asshole.

Adam took this moment of Ronan's guard being down to surge forward until he fell into that place that was so hard to define. It was like he existed somewhere between Ronan and himself, and yet, outside of them both. It was there that their senses merged in a way that was too convoluted to fully comprehend, let alone explain. It was where they'd tumbled unknowingly right before The Incident. They'd done it again once over their week spent apart. Though there'd been no nosebleeds on either side, Ronan had forbid the possibility of another tumble.

 _We have to be more careful_ , he'd told Adam with all the seriousness of a righteous monk.

And now he was shoving him away. Ronan was getting disturbingly good at blocking himself off like that. Adam supposed he'd had a lot of practice all those weeks he'd spent avoiding and ignoring him.

 _Nice try_ , Ronan sniped.

Adam pouted.  _Will you at least come back?_ He knew Ronan knew exactly what he meant. And he was shamelessly content to beg for what he wanted. Something about being inside each other, even for the briefest of moments, had rattled their dynamic. Shaken it to the ground and rebuilt it entirely.

They were closer, he guessed. It was as simple and as literal as that.

He relaxed into the touch when he felt it again.

 _Happy now?_ Ronan jibed.

 _Mm,_ Adam clucked his tongue.  _Not until you teach me how to do this._

Ronan was all about boundaries and limits now. As soon as he'd discovered this was a thing he could do, Adam wanted to do it too. Ronan had very smugly refused.

 _You're a smart boy,_ he told Adam now.  _Why don't you figure it out?_

Adam's eyebrows knitted together in concentration. He'd already tried reverse engineering it, of course. To no avail. How could Ronan use their connection in a way he couldn't? It didn't make sense. He was just missing the key that unlocked it. He focused on the idling touch at the back of his neck. It felt so effortless. Maybe that was his problem. Maybe he was trying too hard. Ronan had been doing it all week on accident, for fuck's sake. It couldn't be that cerebral of a feat.

Suddenly it all came together pieced just right in Adam's brain. Ronan was all feelings. All the time. So it was an emotion-based…skill. For lack of a better term. But how was he accessing it? Even though he'd discovered it on accident, he was doing it on purpose now. And he could stop himself from doing it, too. So there was an element of control, there.

 _God_ , Ronan's hearty chuckle vibrated inside his head.  _I can literally feel you thinking over there._

 _Well, it's not fair,_ Adam snipped at him.  _If you can do this, I should be able to do it, too._

_I didn't want to do it. I don't want to do it. I told you, it was an accident._

_But you know how to make it happen,_ Adam argued.

Ronan sighed.  _Kind of._

_What do you mean?_

_It's not an exact science._

Now it was Adam's turn to sigh. This was getting him nowhere. As usual. Didn't Ronan understand what an incredible development this was? They could finally be together when they couldn't  _be_  together. On nights like tonight when Adam ached to be back in Ronan's bed, surrounded by his smell and his warmth, able to reach out and touch him with his hands if he wanted. He wanted his arms wrapped around Ronan's waist, pulling him and keeping him close.

He felt this ache so desperately and in his exhaustion, allowed the feeling to run wild, pour out of him in all directions until he was so drained he felt like he was wilting, and then falling, and then—

Oh. Oh.

Oh, wow.

He slipped, the sensation rolling over him like an unexpected ocean wave, but steadied himself quickly and steeled himself into whatever realm he'd tumbled into now.

The first thing he felt was heat. And he knew the heat was coming from Ronan. His body heat, his realized belatedly. It wasn't like the way you'd feel the heat of someone next to you in real life. It was much weirder than that. He wildly wondered if all he had to do was put his arms out into the empty space in front of him and there he'd find what he was looking for.

There was nothing to lose from trying. He could feel Ronan's startled response a fraction of a second before he could even process the feeling of Ronan's body inside his arms.

Holy shit. He did it. He barked out a short, victorious laugh.

And to float Adam's delight even higher, they both realized that while Ronan was very slippery when it came to mind melding, he was useless at blocking Adam out from doing this. Adam's grip held steadily while he felt Ronan wriggling around inside it like a caught fish.

 _Jesus fucking Christ_ , Ronan groaned, and Adam felt his weight sag against him. His heart pumped. He smiled.

 _Gotcha_ , he gloated, supremely satisfied with himself.

 _Bully for you_ , Ronan grumbled in reply.  _Well. Now that you have me, what are you gonna do with me?_

A surprisingly good question. Adam hadn't really thought that far ahead.

 _Uh…keep you here forever?_ he teased.  _Make you my slave._

 _Fucking dork._ Ronan snarled, not without affection.

_You should be trying harder to escape._

_It's not like the other stuff,_ Ronan said, switching out their silly conversation for a serious one.  _I can just, like, feel you. All over me. And I can't block it out. It's really fucking weird._

Adam realized then some of the more unsavory implications of what he was doing.

 _Alright,_ he told Ronan, backing himself away, which was easier said than done now that he'd gotten himself there.  _I'll stop._

Ronan said nothing in response, but his mood was off. Adam couldn't pinpoint it with a single word. He supposed Ronan was really taking the new "rules" he'd drawn up seriously. But there was something else there smuggled into his anxiety. Disappointment? That didn't make sense. But Ronan made a living being a complex creature. And now he was back to rubbing at the back of Adam's neck, almost worryingly so, absent-minded, like the way he chewed on his leather bracelets.

 _You say we need to be careful and yet you keep doing this,_ Adam pointed out, mildly annoyed.

 _I told you,_ Ronan's touch disappeared again.  _I don't do it on purpose._

 _How is that possible?_ Adam wanted to know.  _How do you do it if not on purpose? And obviously you know how to turn it on and off, so—_

 _I don't know how to explain it!_ Ronan snapped back, matching Adam's annoyance.  _It's not like I sit around and think, "Damn, I really wanna touch Adam's neck right now." It just happens and I don't even realize I'm doing it half the time until you say something. I don't even know how the fuck you just did whatever the hell that was._

 _What do you mean?_ Adam was confused now.  _It's the same thing._

 _Uh, no,_ Ronan replied.  _It's not._

_How is it different, then?_

Ronan was still annoyed and cruising toward very put out, but Adam wasn't going to let this go.

 _I just want to understand,_ he said, which was true, though his apologetic tone was false.

 _I don't know,_ Ronan's tone suggested a half-hearted shrug.  _The thing I do is—it's more about wanting—feeling—like…I don't know!_ Discomfort was stirring in his stomach. Adam tried to send him waves of reassurance. But Ronan didn't speak again for awhile. Finally, he said,  _I don't think I can explain it._ And the way he said it was so strange. Like he was apologizing. Not for his inability to describe his process, but for something else entirely.

After another thick moment of silence, he asked,  _What about you?_

 _Well,_ Adam shifted around in bed, eager to be able to guide the mood somewhere else.  _I was just thinking about how much I wanted to, uh, be able to do it. The touching thing. And I just focused on that feeling as intensely as I could. And then I just felt like I could…feel you. In a weird way. So, I went for it. And it worked._

 _That made,_ Ronan's voice sounded almost sleepy,  _Absolutely no sense._

Adam scoffed.  _I'm starting to think that's kind of the point._

_Huh?_

_I feel like the more we try to make sense of all this the more we don't understand it, you know?_

_No,_ Ronan answered.  _Enlighten me, Confucius._

 _It's just one of those things you can't think too much about, I guess._ Adam said, ignoring Ronan's sarcasm.

 _Oh yeah_ , Ronan snarked.  _One of those things. Now I get it._

Adam was all too familiar with "one of those things". Like when he used to try to understand why his father hit him. Why his mother didn't seem to care. Why he deserved to be treated that way. And more-so than that, if they hated him so much, then why did they have him in the first place? Why not just get rid of him? The more he thought about it and tried to make sense of his own existence, the more nonsensical it became until he felt like his head was going to explode. He'd finally come to the conclusion that there was no point in exhausting himself with it.

Some things just  _were_. He told Ronan as much.

 _Oh, cool._ Ronan wasn't letting up. Adam could just imagine that goddamn cocky grin on his face.  _I just won't think about it, then._

 _You're being really annoying,_ Adam said, but he was smiling into his pillow.

 _ **You're**_ _being really annoying,_ was Ronan's very creative response.

 _You're like a little kid,_ Adam accused, trying to decide between irritation and fondness.

 _Except when it comes to this,_ Adam amended, experimentally reaching out in that way again. He pushed until he felt Ronan's heat.  _Then you're like a stickly old man._

 _Call me an old man ever again and see what happens._ Ronan's empty threat only amused Adam further.

 _What?_ Adam challenged, poking at what he hoped was Ronan's chest with his newfound ability.  _What are you gonna do, old man?_

 _Quit it,_ Ronan whined, ineffectively squirming away from the touch.

 _Make me,_ Adam taunted, this time opting for a light shove.  _Oh, that's right. You can't. All you can do is rub the back of my neck. Do you have some kind of neck fetish you haven't told me about, Ronan?_ He was sick with his own cleverness. Ronan's growing contempt only egged him on. He continued to poke and push randomly at wherever he felt that strange heat. Sometimes he even felt like he could feel his fingers pushing up against something solidly squishy. Like skin. He might have just been imagining it. That would be a weird thing to just imagine.

His next laugh was sliced right down the middle and the second half of it fell into a sharp intake of breath. His hands had stopped moving and now they were frozen in place. He blinked down at them, confused. He tried wrenching them this way and that, but they were locked at the wrists. After the shock came the heat, then the pressure of strong fingers wrapped tightly around them. It was exactly like the feeling at the back of his neck, in the way it seemed to be coming from the inside out, only tenfold.

 _Goddamn you,_ he cursed at Ronan. He shouldn't have teased him that hard all at once. It got him to get to the same place he was, but he'd wanted to enjoy the solo power for a little bit longer. He'd already been planning more jokes for the days to come, different ways to dangle it over Ronan's head. He should have known that when Ronan snapped, he'd do so like a rubber band stretched to its limit. When you least expect it.

 _Ha!_ Ronan was pleased with himself. He threw Adam's earlier words back at him.  _Gotcha._

 _Okay, you win,_  Adam relented, already starting to panic at the loss of two very important appendages.  _Now give me my hands back._

 _I think I'll keep 'em,_ Ronan said in a way that could only have been accompanied by a satisfied sneer.  _Spoils of war and all._

Adam knew he wouldn't be able to break out of Ronan's iron wrought hold with physical force alone, so he went with a psychological escape tactic instead.  _Wow, Lynch. If you wanted to hold hands so bad you could've just asked._

All you had to do was play the intimate insinuation card and any red blooded man would drop you like a sack of potatoes. But Ronan didn't rear back in disgust. It took this long for Adam to realize that he hadn't really reacted to the neck fetish comment, either. Most guys would have had a few choice words to say about that, at the very least. He supposed sharing a headspace with a boy you could touch with your mind might immunize a guy to that sort of thing. Damn.

He quickly moved to brainstorming another way out when the pressure at his wrists softened and then slid down into his palms. He felt what was potentially the pads of Ronan's thumbs pressing down into the cool, sensitive skin there. The empty spaces between his fingers were widening and being filled with more pressure and heat. Phantom thumbs now tapped against his own.

 _Are you…_ It took him a moment to process what he was feeling.  _Literally holding my hands?_

 _I…think so,_ Ronan answered, quietly honest, the earlier bravado gone from his voice. He seemed almost shy when he asked,  _What does it feel like?_

Adam flexed his fingers inside the invisible ones spreading them open.  _Feel that?_

 _Yeah._ Ronan's voice was drawn tight.  _This is…_

 _Nice,_ Adam finished, closing his eyes and relaxing back into his bed.

 _I was gonna say weird,_ Ronan corrected, but his fingers had moved from in-between Adam's and were now traveling slowly up the inside of his forearm.

 _Then stop touching me,_ Adam complained, regretting his words immediately. He worried Ronan might actually obey the command.

 _I'm not touching you,_ Ronan argued back.  _I'm like, what, at least ten miles away right now._

 _Oh my God,_ Adam groaned, rolling his eyes beneath his closed lids. Ronan's hands were cupping his elbows now.  _You really are a child._

Ronan didn't respond with words, but continued his ascent up Adam's arms. The trailing touch was warm and pleasant against Adam's skin. Like being wrapped up in a nice, non-scratchy blanket for once.

 _Probably shouldn't be doing this,_ Ronan admitted when his fingers were fumbling over the thin material of Adam's t-shirt. He shivered at the ghostly sensation. Ronan's hands finally stopped once they were awkwardly resting at his shoulders.

 _There's the old man,_ Adam murmured back, lulled by the lingering feeling of the journey, still sizzling zips of warmth from his fingertips up the length of his arms.

Though Adam couldn't see Ronan twisting his mouth in that sourpuss way he so often did, he unequivocally felt it. He sighed wearily.

 _Just don't want you getting hurt again._ Ronan spoke like the words were being pulled from clenched teeth.

 _It didn't hurt,_ Adam reminded him. He'd told Ronan this plenty of times since The Incident.  _And it hasn't happened again since. If anything, it's your turn for a nosebleed._

 _Well, in that case._ Ronan's hands slid from Adam's shoulders to his back.

 _Should I add unexpectedly gushing blood out of your face to your list of fetishes?_  Adam joked. But Ronan ignored him. Adam suddenly had the strangest sensation of being pulled forward, though his body still lay motionless in his bed. His chest all the way down to the tips of his toes lit up with warmth. Not as strong as the heat that had streaked across his skin from Ronan's fingers. But enough to make him blink his eyes open, half expecting to see Ronan right in front of him. He could smell his cologne. But there was only dark, empty space between him and the bare walls of his room.

Adam had instinctively curled his arms up to his own chest as he was being pulled and now he was tentatively unfolding them and reaching outward. He let out a soft, surprised,  _oh!_ as his hands smacked into something…very solid.

 _Ow,_ Ronan grunted, though he hardly sounded hurt.

Adam kept pulling his hands back and pushing them out, marveling at the sight of running into an invisible wall over and over again.

 _Are you having fun?_ Ronan asked him dryly.

 _I think it's, like, stronger,_ Adam told him.  _When we're both doing it._

Ronan didn't answer and Adam went back to experimenting. This didn't just feel like ghostly warmth and vaguely humanoid shaped pressure. He could explicitly dig his fingers into the outlines of Ronan's pectoral muscles, feel his breath rising and falling under the palms of his hands. He ran his fingers across the fuzzy patch of hair that covered the center of Ronan's chest.

Ronan…

was not wearing a shirt.

Adam jerked his hands back like he'd only just realized he'd been massaging a hot stove.

 _Sorry_ , he mumbled, quick and emotionless, like this was a commonplace sort of mistake. He spread his hands out wider before he reached out this time, shortly coming into contact with Ronan's bare shoulders. His hands went suddenly clammy. He scrunched up his nose in slow realization.

_You're sweaty._

Ronan balked at that.  _And you're shaped like a naked mole rat, but you don't hear me complaining._

 _Get off me, then._ Adam shrugged his shoulders away from Ronan's touch, thoroughly miffed by the comparison.

 _Didn't say it was a bad thing,_ Ronan hummed, amused, chasing Adam's movement with his hands.

The wind knocked out of Adam's chest, the reintroduction of the touch surprising him.  _Guess I have to add naked mole rats to the list of your weird fetishes._

 _You're disturbingly fixated on what may or may not turn me on,_ Ronan fired back, finally taking the bait. Adam was a confusing mixture of glee and disappointment.

 _It's for school,_ Adam quipped.  _Writing a paper on abnormal psychology._

 _Mmhmm,_ Ronan murmured.  _Should add gasoline, then._

_Gasoline?_

_To your list,_  Ronan said.  _Gasoline is sexy._

 _In what…way?_  Adam didn't get the joke.

 _The smell,_  Ronan said in a way that told Adam he hadn't been joking.

 _I smell like gasoline right now_ , Adam said, and he didn't know why he said it. It was true, he had just gotten off a long shift at Boyd's. But it was a weird thing to say in response to that. He guessed it was a joke. They were still joking, after all.

 _Yeah_ , Ronan agreed, voice devoid of anything but simple concurrence.  _You do._

The feeling of Ronan's hands had slightly dissipated, he could tell they were there, somewhere close to his body, but it wasn't as tangible of a feeling as it had been before.

He sidled himself forward in bed, his empty stomach taking that very inopportune moment to let itself be known.

Ronan laughed. Adam scrunched up his face.

Ronan's voice regained his familiar air of sardonic humor when he spoke next.  _You need to eat something, Slim Jim. I can feel your humerus all the way from here._

Adam chose to ignore the insult.  _Nothing to eat here._

 _I'll bring you something,_ Ronan suggested immediately. He was so ridiculous, like an elderly aunt.

Adam shook his head.  _I'm not hungry._

_You know lying doesn't work on the guy who can feel your freakishly prominent clavicle right now, right?_

_You stay away from my clavicle,_ Adam told him. He didn't appreciate the unfair appraisal. Adam really wasn't  _that_  skinny. He had a slim build, sure, and parts of him were a little stretched out and bony. But he had physically demanding jobs and he worked out in school. Just because he wasn't ripped like Ronan or brick wall shaped like Gansey didn't mean he was completely without muscle.  _I don't feel like eating. I told you, I'm not feeling well._

 _Probably because you haven't eaten_ , Ronan argued. When Adam didn't answer, Ronan said his name in a way that Adam would not have tolerated from anyone else but Ronan. Cold, quiet fury still seared through Adam's veins, anyway. Parrish blood couldn't be helped.

 _I don't know what you think I can do._ Adam's words fell like sharp icicles from a high branch.  _There's no food in the house and it's the middle of the night._

 _I told you I would bring you something._ Ronan was unsympathetic, all he saw was the solution he was offering.

 _Even if I wanted you to, how would that work? I told you I can't risk sneaking out again. Not after what happened last time._  It always unnerved Adam to be reminded that no matter how close they were, no matter how intertwined with each other they became, there were some things about him Ronan just would never understand.  _I know you don't get it but that's just the way it is. I didn't want to think about how sick and hungry I feel so I thought talking to you until I fall asleep might make me feel better. Just forget it. I'm going to sleep._  Ronan wasn't touching him anymore so it was easy to pull away from the connection, but he couldn't untangle himself completely.

Though Ronan was giving Adam the silent treatment in response, his emotions were predictably loud. Anger. More specifically, frustration. Fear. Hurt. Resentment. Guilt. More Anger. Swirling around themselves and knocking into each other until Adam felt like there was a thunderstorm crackling around in his head.

 _That's not fair_ , he finally spoke.  _I do get it. I'm not stupid, Adam. It just really fucking sucks, okay? It sucks when you want to help someone you love and there's nothing you can do. I wasn't trying to…nevermind. Whatever. Goodnight._ He felt Ronan pull away from him completely.

Adam didn't know if Ronan had said it so casually like that to manipulate him into not being mad anymore or if it was just truly how he felt. If it was such a simple thing to him that he didn't need to say it grandly, in some sweeping moment. That he could thread it into any old sentence at any time, even when they were angry with each other.

 _Ronan…_  Adam still didn't understand how to say it back, but what he ended up saying was something that had to be dug from a much deeper well inside of him.  _Don't go._

Ronan was there, heat and hands and all, rubbing at Adam's bony elbows like he'd never left.

 _I just want you close right now._  Adam had to squeeze his eyes shut as he said it, straining to get the words out.

 _I'm here,_ Ronan told him, pressing even closer than before. He could feel Ronan's bare chest rising and falling against his. He wished he wasn't wearing a shirt, either. He had no idea why. He was having a lot of crazy thoughts tonight. Maybe it was a side effect of what they were doing. Maybe using their power like this was eating away at their minds. Or at Adam's, at least. He felt so strange inside his own body. Like an animal wearing human skin. Uncomfortable and somehow, deceiving. He wondered if he and Ronan could push so far into each other that they'd fall all the way in the other's body and get stuck, Freaky Friday style. He told Ronan this as he was pulling Adam flush up against him and he laughed.

 _I'd have to spend the whole day eating_ , Ronan mused, his hands running down Adam's sides. Adam could not suppress the shiver that spiked down his back.

 _Fuck you_ , Adam growled in response.  _Not everyone can look like this_. He pushed his hands out and landed back on Ronan's broad chest. Thick and defined where Adam was thin and sunken. His fingers skidded over impossibly soft skin that Adam couldn't visualize until he felt the tips of Ronan's nipples peak underneath his thumbs. Oh. Heat boiled in his stomach. Bodies were so strange. Adam was so unused to being touched, especially like this, with such gentle purpose, he kept startling every time Ronan's hands found a new patch of uncharted territory. He dipped his thumbs into the hollow places below Adam's shoulders, fingers pressing into the fabric of Adam's shirt, which was itching terribly. He wriggled out of it, much to Ronan's confused alarm.

_What are you doing?_

_It's hot,_ Adam complained. When Ronan didn't return to where he'd been, Adam had to whisper,  _Come back._  This time when Ronan's hands were on him they were rough and warm and calloused against his bare, aching skin. He sucked in his breath. Ronan's heart was beating so hard. Adam could feel it in his own chest. He loved this. Being so close. Feeling everything. He pushed his face into his pillow and sighed, the sound coming out from somewhere low in his throat. His own hands slid down from where they'd been perched on Ronan's chest until he could feel the dense stream of hair that started around his belly button and disappeared underneath the waistband of his underwear. Ronan was much hairier than he was. Adam wondered if Ronan was disappointed that Adam was skinny and the small amount of hairs that were on his body were fine and fair and the possibility sliced into his heart like a cold knife.

What a ridiculous thought. It was just Ronan. His opinion of Adam's body didn't matter, shouldn't matter. Though when Ronan's hands slid slowly down Adam's chest, to his stomach, and back up again, slowly, reverently, the touch sparking until Ronan's voice appeared not only in his head but also just outside his ear, as if Ronan's lips were hovering just above it,  _You're perfect,_ Adam's eyes rolled back in pleasure.

He was panting into his pillow now, trying to focus on Ronan's hands encircling his shoulders and not the wild pressure that was tightening and tightening in his stomach, bleeding down into his trembling thighs. He was so hungry, so feral, his body started moving while his mind stayed suspended somewhere else, far above whatever was happening on earth, floating around in space where all he could see were stars. His hips canted until they stilled between Ronan's hands, holding them in place. Adam whined into his pillow, desperate.

 _I think we should stop._  Ronan's voice was full of gravel. He was shaking. Was Ronan really worried about nosebleeds at a time like this? Adam could barely think at all.

 _I'm fine_ , He managed to say, breathing hard. The insides of his thighs throbbed with need.  _Please don't stop_.

The singular thread that was tying together Ronan's resolve broke, and Ronan pushed roughly closer, one of his large thighs slipping inbetween Adam's shaking legs. His hand wound around the back of Adam's knee, pulling him closer still. Adam mewled, his body inadvertently grazing against the heat and friction of Ronan's leg between his.

 _Fuck_ , Ronan hissed, he sounded completely undone. His heart was pounding against Adam's chest. Inside of it. At least Adam wasn't the only one going insane with how good this felt. Adam's hands were latched onto Ronan's shoulders now, fingers clawing into his skin. The pressure he felt inside himself was building and building and he could hardly stand it. Ronan was rubbing his hands up and down his arms, murmuring soft reassurances to him as he felt himself reaching some kind of breaking point. His head was still swirling among the clouds as his body shook uncontrollably down below.

The back of his neck tingled, flooded with heat, then he felt the unmistakable press of Ronan's fingers, dragging slowly across his fevered skin. All at once the horrible pressure inside him broke open and he shuddered with the unexpected release. His head came back down to his body. He panted until his breath slowed and his limbs sagged with exhaustion. He felt tired. Calm. Satisfied. Not hungry anymore.

 _Are you okay?_  Ronan asked him eventually. Adam nodded, eyes half closed, only vaguely aware of Ronan's presence close by. He was so sleepy.

 _Get some rest_ , Ronan told him, slipping out of his reach. Adam startled back into alertness.

 _Where you going?_ He reached for Ronan, surprised to find the state he was in was in stark contrast to Adam's. He was wound up so tight. Muscles clenched. Trembling and uncomfortable.

Adam didn't understand.  _Are_ _ **you**_   _okay?_  He asked, suddenly worried. Now he could relate to Ronan's guilt, his paranoia. If Ronan had been hurt because Adam had pushed too far, he didn't know if he could bear that.

 _Fine_ , Ronan shook him off.  _Just need a shower._

His brow wrinkled in confusion, but as Ronan slipped away again, Adam was left with his heavy, tired muscles and cloudy brain. But as he rolled over in bed, ready for sleep to claim him, a cold pool of wet shocked him back into the waking world.

What the fuck?

He sat up abruptly and ran a hand under his nose. It came away clear and dry. He threw off his covers and blinked and blinked down at what he saw until his brain was able to process it.

His boxer shorts were completely soaked through. And he didn't have to touch it to know it wasn't blood.

* * *

Adam couldn't concentrate. Boyd kept pausing in the middle of projects to eye him warily. He even asked him if he needed a break a couple times. Adam had declined, apologizing for his absentminded behavior.

Boyd had only continued to stare at him, his dark brown eyes unnervingly fierce. "Things alright at home, son?"

Adam bristled, he hated being called son. He plastered on a smile and nodded. "Yeah, everything's fine. Just a little tired today, that's all." He walked over to the fancy coffee maker Boyd kept in the garage for himself and other employees and customers to use, which Adam had never used before, and started making himself a small cup of coffee, just to sell his story enough so that Boyd would stop asking questions.

But it only made it worse. Boyd reminded him that he'd only taken a fifteen at lunch and he needed to take another one before his shift was over.

"I can wait," Adam insisted, setting his pointless coffee down and returning to work beside Boyd. "Don't wanna leave you alone with Mullins."

Boyd laughed at that. They were bonded in their hate for their least favorite customer. Adam didn't understand how Boyd put up with him. He knew remaining calm and polite was part of the job when you were working with people but Mullins was a piece of shit. Whenever Boyd wasn't around and Mullins was looking for him, he smack Adam on the back and ask,  _Where's that boy at_? As if Boyd was not a grown man and the owner of the place, as if he couldn't be bothered to remember his name. Adam knew it was because Boyd was black. If Adam had ever truly wanted to punch anyone in the face, it was that fucking guy.

They'd just gotten rid of him when he heard Boyd whistle. "There's a thing of beauty," he commented and Adam looked up to see what was going on. His heart sank. A sleek BMW had just pulled into the lot.

He hadn't talked to Ronan at all today. How could he? He was so embarrassed.

It had seemed so harmless while it was happening. Adam had never even realized…God. He'd replayed the scene over a dozen times in his mind since it happened. He felt nauseous when he'd remembered what he'd done. He hadn't meant to. He'd just wanted Ronan close, like he always wanted. How could he have been so stupid? The things he'd said, the way his body…responded. He could forgive himself for it if only he wasn't sure that Ronan had felt it, too. That's why he kept wanting to stop. That's why he was so eager to get away from him after. Adam couldn't shake the feeling he'd done something horrible, unforgivable. It was eating him up inside.

The passenger side door flew open and Gansey stepped out of the car. His smile was beaming and presidential as he approached the two of them, Adam could hear the iconic music playing in his head while he imagined an American flag waving in slow motion behind him.

"Let me guess," Boyd eyed Gansey up and down with considerably less awe than Adam. "Need directions?"

"Oh, no," Gansey took the sly dig in stride. He probably didn't even realize Boyd was being a dick. He nodded over to where Adam stood, grimacing. "Just here for Adam."

"Did the Carmichaels send y'all over?" Boyd asked. He smacked Adam with the cloth he was using to wipe the grease off his hands. "They were real impressed with the work you did last week. Called back just to ask for your name." Boyd's whole face wrinkled up when he smiled. He patted Adam's back as he spoke, telling Gansey in detail how Adam had rebuilt the shot transmission in Preston Carmichael's Toyota Prius. Gansey was nodding along, obviously lost but happily fascinated all the same. Adam had just been doing his job. He didn't know why Boyd was making a big deal out of it in front of what he thought was a customer. "Ol' Pressy was beside himself. Thought he was gonna have to buy a new car. But Adam got it running again just fine." Boyd chuckled at the memory. "My boy's the best there is, that's for sure. I worked all over and never had a harder worker or a more skilled mechanic. He's got real talent." Adam's mouth was fixed into a painful smile. He felt like he was going to be sick again. Is this what kids who had parents that bragged about their mediocre achievements to their friends felt like? He'd have to remind himself never to feel jealous of that again.

"Of course, sir," Gansey agreed kindly. "You don't have to convince me of how special Adam Parrish is."

Adam was going to puke.  _Help_ , he reached for Ronan without thinking.  _Gansey just called me special in front of my boss._

The driver side door of the BMW kicked open followed by the sight of tall laced up black leather boots that dipped into faded black skinny jeans, ripped at the knees, a white ribbed tank top and studded leather jacket slung over one shoulder. He pretended to be stretching his long booted legs, or maybe he really was. Adam couldn't tell. "Gansey!" He called over lazily. "Get a move on."

Gansey frowned but nodded, turned back to Boyd. "I'm sorry, sir. What I meant was that we're here to pick Adam up. It's our friend's birthday and we're having a celebration."

Boyd looked to Adam, bewildered. Adam blanched. "I can't leave right now," he sullenly told Gansey. "I'm sorry. You guys should just go on without me."

"Oh," Gansey's face was troubled. "I thought Ronan told me you were getting off at five."

"I was," Adam sighed. "The closing mechanic called in. I can't leave Boyd here by himself."

"What time do you close?" Gansey asked, still hopeful.

"Eight. And then it takes about an hour to pack everything up and close the shop. So." Adam shrugged. "I'm sorry. I should have told Ronan but we've been busy today and –"

Boyd threw down his cloth. "I don't need two reasons to close up early tonight. Might actually be able to take my girls trick-or-treating this year."

"If it's not too much trouble," Gansey smiled angelically at him. "That would be wonderful. We can wait while you two close up. And if there's anything I could do to help speed the process along–"

"No," Adam and Boyd both choked out at the same time. Boyd was fastidious about cleaning up and closing the shop and the bug had wormed its way into Adam's brain now, too, after working with him for so long.

"We got it," Adam told him. "It won't be too long."

Gansey had just made it back to the car when Boyd said, "You go ahead and go on."

Adam shook his head. "It's no problem, I can stay."

"You got your friends waiting on you," Boyd insisted. "And I wanna get home in time to see Denise fall out. You know she's always on me for working too much. Especially on the holidays."

He laughed. Denise was Boyd's wife. She was a lawyer and somehow was able to spend more time at home with their two daughters than Boyd did. Adam had never met her but she's was one of those people you've heard enough stories about to make you feel like you have.

"So let's just lock up for the night. I'll come in early tomorrow and deal with the rest of it."

"Alright," Adam chewed on his lip. "If you're sure."

"You running round with that Lynch boy, now?" Boyd asked in reply. Adam was startled by the way Boyd looked over to where Ronan was still standing outside, leaning against the side of his car. He clucked his tongue. "Trouble, trouble."

"I've known him forever," Adam said, oddly offended. "He's nice."

"Nice boys don't drive cars like that," Boyd argued, "You watch yourself, son."

 _I'm not your son_ , Adam thought defiantly. Maybe the false title bothered him so much because he wished it was true.

* * *

When Adam squeezed himself into the backseat of the BMW he was surprised to see that Blue had already been picked up and she was sharing a bag of Twizzlers with Noah.

"Hey you," she smiled at him, offering him a stick of the red licorice.

He accepted it with a small smile.  _What's wrong?_  she mouthed at him. Adam sighed. How unfair that the only non-psychic in her family who didn't live inside his head could read his thoughts. Friendship wasn't all it was cracked up to be. She wouldn't taking nothing for an answer, either. He jerked his head toward Ronan and made a face.

Blue frowned.  _What did he do?_  She mouthed, punctuating each word with a sharp pause inbetween.

Adam shook his head. Pointed at himself. There was no way he could explain it. Blue's frown deepened, but she simply patted his leg affectionately and turned back to smearing glitter on Noah's face.

He didn't feel right, reaching out to test the waters of Ronan's emotions. It was extremely disconcerting, for anything about Ronan to feel off-limits to him. But a well-deserved punishment, all things considered. Because of this, he couldn't tell if Ronan was ignoring him because he was angry or because it was just really awkward. Adam didn't know which of those would be worse, either. Or easier to fix.

Noah and Blue dominated the long car ride, anyway. Insisting everyone join in on their cheesy car games and loud, off-key sing alongs to old Halloween classics.

"If I have to hear that goddamn skeleton song one more time," Ronan warned from the driver's seat. "I'm throwing Noah out into oncoming traffic."

"You can't kill me on my birthday, Ronan!" Noah shouted from the backseat, then hit a button on his phone. "Again!" The trilling xylophone and pumping bass that signaled the beginning of the song filled the car once more. Blue cheered like a little girl and they began to pump their fists and sing along. Adam wondered if the two of them had already been drinking.

He caught Ronan's eyes in the rearview mirror. Ronan held his gaze blankly for one moment, before Adam decided to try the pretend-it-never-happened approach. He tilted his head toward Blue and Noah questioningly and mimed drinking a beer. Ronan shook his head and rolled his eyes, fondly annoyed, but didn't say anything in Adam's head or reach out in a way that Adam could feel. This was maddening. He'd never had to work to know what was going on in Ronan's head before. Suddenly Adam no longer had the magic 3D glasses to the deceivingly flat looking image that was Ronan Lynch.

What was he supposed to do?  _Ask_  him how he felt? He couldn't even imagine.

"Hope you're ready to be my boyfriend for the night," Blue knocked her shoulder against Adam's as they pulled into an unfamiliar parking lot. He supposed this was the place.

"Huh?"

"If any gross dudes hit on me I'm gonna need you to put your arm around me and look territorial and menacing," she clarified.

Adam scoffed. "Sure."

"Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah!" Noah sang, practically buzzing as he hopped out of the car. "Let's do this!"

"There's a back employee entrance we can go through to get in," Gansey explained, herding them northward. "Servers will do just about anything if you're willing to tip them."

"Wow, so funny." Blue scowled at the poor tasting joke. "How about you try to live on two dollars an hour? Or better yet, go fuck yourself."

Ronan and Noah both honked with laughter. Gansey looked positively green around the gills and silently turned to knock on the back door, passing a large wad of cash into the hand that opened it. They were hastily beckoned inside. They shuffled through the kitchen like thieves in the night and were hushedly urged to "Go go go!" when they reached the flapping doorway that led to the club area. Flashing green lights momentarily blinded Adam as he was pulled through by Blue's tiny hands.

"Well," Gansey spread his arms wide. "We made it."

"Technically Noah could have just, like, walked in." Ronan noted. Noah punched him in the arm.

Adam couldn't stand the silence that seemed to be swallowing him from the inside out.

He took a deep breath, as if he were preparing himself to plunge underwater, and reached for Ronan with his mind.

 _Hey_ , he tugged at him tentatively. He didn't really know where to go from there. ' _So no nosebleeds last night, but I did come so hard I had to wash my boxers in the bathroom sink. Any thoughts on that?'_ didn't exactly roll off the tongue.

He tried for a more vague approach instead. Easing into the conversation.  _Are you mad at me?_

 _No_ , Ronan answered, his voice clipped with out of character neutrality. He started making his way over to the bar. "I need a drink."

They all wore matching blank stares for a moment. Then Blue cut her gaze to Gansey, eyes slit with suspicion."I thought he was driving."

Gansey looked like he was chewing on a particularly sour grape. "Me too."

They looked to Adam now, like they all expected him to translate Ronan's strange behavior so they could understand, too. But Adam was just as lost as the rest of them.

He wondered what was going on in Ronan's head right now. He didn't  _seem_  angry but he didn't seem anything else either. He obviously wasn't happy. The last time there'd been a problem like this the two of them had been too busy wallowing in their own self pity and insecurity to talk to each other about it and the result was weeks of miserable isolation. He didn't want that to happen again. He didn't think he could  _take_  that happening again. He tried to put himself in Ronan's position, but all this told him was that if the roles  _had_  been reversed and Ronan had accidentally…well…Adam wouldn't have been mad at him for it. He'd probably allow himself small, private moments to be extremely inappropriately flattered, but he would have understood that it wasn't something that could be controlled anymore than his nose spurting out a river of blood could have. The bond had always invoked extreme physical reactions in the two of them. This was no different. It was preferable, even. When he thought about it. To that of an unrelenting migraine or various orifices dripping with blood. He was dazedly shocked into a sensory memory of the night before. They rolled through his body like old film clips. The sweetness of the pleasure brought by being touched, just touched, by someone. By Ronan, specifically. The pressure and the release. The resulting ruined underwear. The fear and embarrassment and guilt that coursed through him when he realized what he'd done and that Ronan had been the unsuspecting witness to it all. Suddenly chronic pain and bleeding out were both looking pretty good.

Adam closed his eyes and tried to steel himself for the night that lay ahead of him. There would probably be a fight of some kind. Adam felt like he'd developed an almost sixth sense for being able to sense their culmination. It stifled the air around him, sat heavy in his lungs. But there was no way around the fact that they needed to talk about what had happened. His mind began automatically flitting through all the different possibilities the confrontation could create, preparing him to be able to react to what ever he might need to. Another shitty superpower that was an unavoidable side effect of his upbringing. He found it impossible to be afraid of Ronan, who for all his faults and mistakes had only ever been a source of safety in his life. He knew Ronan wouldn't yell or hit him. But he was afraid of something. Something that felt inevitable. He just didn't know what it was. But he was certain that before the night was over, whether he wanted to or not, he was going to find out.


	9. Four Walls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! ;) and happy Noah's birthday in the JTBQ universe!!

_And we cried, oh, but we're here now_  
_And I'm trying hard to make you love me but I don't wanna try too hard_  
_And I'm trying hard to take it lightly but we're here now_  
  
_Those four walls now are the only place that I can breathe out_  
_And those four walls now are home_

"[Four Walls](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-tTWOf3Pm6Q)" — Broods

 

* * *

 

 

Noah pointed to an empty couch in a roped off area. Adam's first thought was that they couldn't sit there. Because it was roped off. Then he watched as Gansey spoke amicably with the bulldog of a man who was standing outside it. When Gansey waved them over, Adam's next thought was that he supposed Gansey must know that guy somehow and he was doing him a favor, but he caught the tail end of the transaction taking place as Noah was unclipping the rope and shuffling Adam and Blue inside. He shook his head. One day, he'd be able to do something like that. He just had to get through the rest of the year at Aglionby, then he'd be off to college. Things would be better and worse. His money would be tight but he'd be out of Virginia. Far away from the trailer park. His parents. He'd be living on his own, making his own rules, eating whenever he wanted. All baby steps toward paying muscled men to let you into places you weren't supposed to be. It wasn't about the result itself, it was about the ability to make it happen without a second thought. Some day he would make things happen, without a second thought, too.

Blue was the first to slide into the sleek white leather curved seating area and she pulled Adam down after her. Noah appeared at his other side. Gansey sheepishly sat down next to Blue. It occurred to Adam to let Ronan know where they'd gone before he remembered Ronan wasn't accepting messages at the moment. At least not from him.

"So who's not drinking?" Blue asked the three boys surrounding her. "Since Mad Max just bowed out of being our DD."

Adam had expected Gansey to offer his services immediately. He was the accommodating type. But he looked as reluctant as the rest of them. Adam's hesitance had nothing to do with the desire to consume alcohol. He just didn't think it was a good idea to leave him in charge of driving Ronan's car right now.

He had to tell them as much. Ronan's bad mood was his fault, after all. "I wasn't planning on drinking but I don't think Ronan would be okay with me driving his car tonight. He's upset with me."

It felt good to say it, somehow. Like they were all sharing the burden. Like it was normal for them to do so. Blue rolled her eyes while she played with a strand of her hair. Gansey simply nodded, like he'd expected as much.

It was Noah who spoke, scowling as he did. "He's always upset with someone. I'm not gonna let him spoil our fun. If he wants to be a drama queen and get drunk then he can sober up by the end of the night or pay for our ride home. It's his responsibility."

Adam was surprised to hear Noah, who he'd thought was the poster child for radiating sunshine, to speak about Ronan's behavior so coldly. He wasn't wrong, though. Ronan shouldn't punish the rest of the group just because Adam had done something wrong.

"I tried talking to him but…that didn't work." Adam found himself saying. He didn't know why he felt the need to fill everyone else in on what was happening. He felt lost without being able to feel Ronan in the periphery of himself. This was different from when Ronan had been ignoring him before. Back then he was allowed to be mad. He hadn't done anything to warrant that kind of a reaction. It was just Ronan being dramatic. This time he couldn't claim any kind of defense for himself.

"Ronan always does what he wants to do in the moment without thinking about the consequences," Gansey sighed, rolling his shoulders back, like he was preparing to make a speech. "If you tried to solve the conflict with him and he wouldn't have it then that's on him."

"Can we please stop talking about him and start talking about who's buying me a drink?"

"Me!" Noah volunteered happily, raising his hand and everything, as if someone else was going to challenge him. By the fractionally downturned look on Gansey's face, maybe he wasn't wrong in that assumption. Adam wasn't quite sure what was going on there, if anything.

He gave Blue a look once Gansey and Noah had left for the bar.

"What?" she refastened one of the many wayward clips in her hair.

"Nothing." He had a feeling Blue was burning some sort of wick at both ends, but he had his own interpersonal problems to worry about.

She stopped fiddling with her hair and sighed. "You don't have to not drink, Adam. We'll figure out a way home. Don't let him ruin your night."

"I wasn't gonna drink, anyway." Adam shrugged. "It's no big deal." Adam was already brainstorming a way of this place. He couldn't stay out as late as the rest of them were probably planning. He'd told Ronan that. But Ronan wasn't speaking to him, let alone honoring his wishes. He'd spotted a couple guys he recognized from various classes. One of them was that guy who'd given him a ride to Nino's after the first day of school. Maybe if he struck up a conversation, offered all the cash he had on him, he'd take pity on Adam again.

"Thought I'd never see you guys again," Ronan drawled as he clambered into their ostentatious booth, landing awkwardly between the ample space Gansey had left between himself and Blue upon his return. "Thanks for saving me a seat."

"Thanks for leaving us stranded here without a way home," Blue mumbled, taking a long, satisfied sip of her whiskey sour.

"The fuck?" Ronan raised an eyebrow. Blue nodded toward the beer bottle in his hand.

"It's  _one_  drink."

"Better be."

"Who do you think you are, my mom?"

"Ronan." Gansey warned.

"Guys," Noah whined.

"I don't mind driving back," Adam blurted out, fingers tugging at a loose strand on Blue's gauzy dress as he spoke. He kept his eyes focused on it. "If everyone else wants to drink."

His suggestion was met with deafening silence.

When someone finally spoke, it was Ronan. "Since when can you drive stick?"

It took a moment for Adam to realize it was he who Ronan was addressing, as Ronan was not looking directly at him, or any of their group, but intently focused on the peeling corner of the label on his beer bottle.

"Oh," Adam blinked. He'd forgotten that detail of Ronan's car, his own abilities as a driver. "I've circled a few manuals around the lot at Boyd's."

Ronan snorted. "Like I said," he still wasn't looking at him. "It's one drink."

The group settled into an uncomfortable silence again.

"It's time," Noah finally broke the silence gravely.

"Time for what?" Blue asked while Noah was pulling out his phone.

"The first game of the night," Noah explained. Pink and Blue colors began to flash across the screen and Noah began to explain the rules. "If you pass on a truth, you have to take a drink. If you pass on a dare, you have to answer the next truth that comes up."

"I wanna go first!" Blue shouted from where she sat between Gansey and Noah, reaching over Noah to get his phone.

"I'm putting all our names in!" Noah yelped, pulling it out of her reach. "It randomly selects the first play—oh." He pouted, handing the phone to Blue, who had been chosen by fate.

"Hah!" She crowed in victory, then her face dropped when she read whatever was on the screen. "Ugh. Nevermind. Pass to another player," she narrated, pressing at the screen that was shuffling through their names again.

"You have to take a drink, then," Noah reminded her.

"Ronan," Blue announced, ignoring him, and passing the phone to the surly boy to her right. "You're up."

He looked even more unimpressed with whatever the screen was telling him to do than Blue had. He didn't even say anything, just pressed and then passed the phone back to Noah when his name flashed up on the screen.

"You both have to drink!" Noah was getting annoyed with their uncooperative behavior. "It stays on the same one until someone does it. Oh my God," he huffed when he saw what had been too unsavory for Blue or Ronan to share with the rest of them. "You guys are such babies. Truth: Are you a virgin? No, I am not." Noah pressed a different button on the screen. "Wow, that was so hard."

An uneasy thread of energy tugged through the lot of them. They all had varying degrees of information about Noah and his traumatic past stored between them.

"Well," Blue finally said. "I don't believe in the concept of virginity, so it's not like I could even answer that question, anyway."

"Then you could've just said no," Ronan suggested with a malicious smirk.

"No," Blue rounded on him with a scowl. "I'm not a virgin but I'm not not-a-virgin either, because I don't believe in it."

This was a very long and enlightening conversation Adam had already had with Blue. He didn't envy the rest of the boys, especially Gansey, whose entire face seemed to have sunken inward at the prospect of the conversation, for the hole they were digging themselves into if they continued to question her about it.

For the record, she'd had sex, she'd told him about the whole harrowing ordeal. She'd wound up at some party over the summer. Some wild back to school rager at some rich kid's house. Her cousin, Orla, had talked her into going and then promptly ditched her the moment they'd arrived. Orla had been pursuing a foolhardy (Blue's words) affair with a boy from the all-boys Catholic school downtown. He'd remembered spending so much time wondering how Ronan and his brothers had ended up at Aglionby instead of that school (was it because their parents cared more about reputation and college prospects that they thought it was worth opting for a secular education? ) that he'd been woefully underprepared by the time Blue had started describing her inaugural sexual encounter. He'd coughed on the milkshake he'd been idly sucking on so violently some of it came out of his nose.

She wouldn't tell him who the lucky guy was. Adam had an all at once alarming distaste for him, anyway. He'd thought for a moment that he was jealous, as he usually was, of most people for most things, but this was something else. A hatred steeped in familial instinct. He would have punched him should he ever see him, if he was that sort of person. Instead he just told Blue he seemed like a loser.

She agreed that he was. And lacking, intellectually. Though a fetching shade of red blotted her cheeks as she spoke, admitting a curious amount of time later that he was, in fact, to quote her: "abominably handsome".

Virginity was a weird thing. He'd never thought to take Blue's stance on the matter, but her logic was sound. She told him it wasn't a concept that should be policed universally, that it was all about personal beliefs and choices. It—this whole debacle—brought upon one of the most unexpected questions of Adam's existence.

_Is Ronan a virgin?_

"Okay," Ronan nodded sarcastically. Adam had the instinctive urge to reprimand him inside their heads but only remembered to refrain at the last moment.

"Why didn't you want to answer, then?" Blue shot back at him, easily baited into a fight. "If it's such an easy question."

It wasn't something he'd really ever thought about before. Which now seemed like a glaring oversight. The idea of Ronan being a virgin seemed incorrect, somehow. Ronan was all the things that Adam wasn't, the fantasy version of himself" rich, confident, attractive, surrounded by love. Virgin didn't fit into the code.

"Cause it's none of your business." Ronan punctuated this with a swig of his beer.

Then again, Ronan being real and not a figment of his imagination didn't fit, either. So all bets were off. He kept forgetting that.

How had he not thought about this sooner?

"That's the whole point of Truth or Dare," Noah groaned. "The Truths are supposed to be hard to answer." He crossed his arms and slumped back into his seat. "Whatever, nevermind."

It was pretty unfair that everyone had chosen tonight of all nights to be at uncomfortable odds with each other. Adam understood his annoyance. He wasn't sure why he cared about this as much as he did. He couldn't imagine Noah giving the same amount of thought to him. But that didn't really matter. It was his birthday and he'd been through a lot in his life and Adam just wanted him to have a good night. Was this another twisting branch attached to the towering tree of friendship he kept unwittingly climbing with these people?

"Let's just call that a practice round." Adam nudged Noah with his shoulder. "I wanna go next."

Noah shrugged, but his expression had brightened a bit and satisfaction warmed Adam's blood.

It was consuming him now.

Surely, he had to be. Ronan. A virgin. If he'd had sex with someone, he would have told Adam, wouldn't he? They told each other everything. Didn't they? But maybe that was the sort of thing he wanted to keep private. He'd said it wasn't anyone's business. But Adam did not count in 'anyone'. Unless it was something that happened recently and he just hadn't gotten around to telling Adam yet. It was a strange thing to have to announce, he supposed.

"How are you gonna play if you don't have anything to drink?"

Adam cut his way through the bramble of shock, anger, and desperation he felt from Ronan speaking to him with such unprompted candor, it was the familiar kind of barbed wire teasing that was a classic hit in Ronan's discography. Though Adam, unlike Blue, knew when a lure was being dangled in front of him and chose to ignore it. He met Ronan's eyes with a vacant ease when he said, "I guess I'll just have to tell the truth."

It couldn't be. Ronan could barely stay in the right lane and turn the dial on the radio at the same time without swerving into oncoming traffic. If Ronan had been having sex with someone, there was no way he would have been able to multitask in a way that blocked Adam out of his head and Adam would have felt it. The realization burned through the skin on his face. He tried to picture it. Ronan, in bed with someone, naked, kissing them, touching them, being…inside them. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, willing the image to go away. He didn't want to look at this. Didn't want to think about it. He couldn't bear the thought of Ronan being so…close…to someone else. It wasn't fair. Ronan was his. Not like that, but…that didn't mean anyone else could just  _have_  him. Did Ronan really want someone else…like that? Had he already had someone else…like that? Something so close and so intimate that was just his and another person's and had nothing to do with Adam? Wasn't his business?

How could anything about Ronan not be his business?

Adam felt the most surreal sense of loss squeeze around his heart until he felt like he was going to start coughing up blood any second. He wanted to reach out to Ronan, feel their closeness, be comforted and reassured, but he couldn't. Fuck. He had to snap out of this. What was wrong with him?

When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to see Ronan glaring at him. Ronan had many different glare settings and this one was decidedly set to stun rather than kill. At least that was progress. He drew himself up inside, not wanting to Ronan to be aware of anything he was feeling right now. It just felt weird. He was being weird. He needed to calm down.

"You can share my drink, Adam," added Gansey with such a naked desire for his own suggestion that Adam took a moment to think maybe Blue didn't have anything to worry about, after all.

Noah pressed at the phone until Adam's name flashed across the screen. It was another Truth.  _If you had to kiss anyone in your friendgroup, who would it be?_

Adam tried to keep his expression neutral. He now understood why this game was always associated with either very small children at sleepovers or riotous frat parties. It was completely asinine. He didn't want to answer this question. But he'd already made the mistake of reading it aloud, and assuring Noah he was gung-ho to play, and made a big show in front of everyone for his devotion to telling the truth. Plus, he had nothing to drink from in the even of his refusal to answer.

Oh, well.

"I'm passing," he announced, relieved when it was Gansey's name that appeared on the screen next.

"I do hate to play favorites," Gansey mused, and Noah looked like was going to explode.

"Alright, alright, I—uh—Blue." Gansey's answer surprised no one, except Blue, who looked like she'd just accidentally swallowed poison that was meant for someone else.

"I don't know if that counts." She pointed her straw at the question on the screen. "I'm not 'in your friendgroup'."

Gansey, uncomprehending this rejection, was boastfully consoling. "Of course you are!" He even patted Blue's leg. The schadenfreude Ronan felt in this moment was so strong he couldn't block Adam from feeling it. Oh, God.

"Well, I'm supposed to drink now," Adam reminded everyone, while Gansey and Blue continued to bicker back and forth about the status of their acquaintance to each other.. He hoped this was more interesting than Gansey embarrassing himself so thoroughly without realizing it. He stood up, edging his way toward the bar. "I'll be right back. Don't reveal any more life altering secrets without me." He dunked his words in sticky sarcasm, like it was all fun and games and ultimately no big deal. "I'll be right back."

* * *

 

"Hey."

Adam turned to see an unfamiliar man dressed as the ever elusive Waldo standing at the bar beside him. Adam was still waiting on his gin and tonic. It seemed simple enough to be bearable, as far as alcoholic beverages were concerned.

"I like your costume," the guy continued, his smile stretching slowly across his face as he spoke. "People try way too hard these days. I've seen enough Jared Leto Jokers tonight to last me a lifetime."

Adam grunted a short laugh of concurrence, but the rest of this encounter was a mystery. Adam wasn't wearing a costume. Was Waldo being sarcastic, making some kind of observational joke about Adam's lack of costume? Did he think Adam was taking some kind of stance against social traditions? He looked like the kind of guy that would be into that sort of thing. A real philosophy 101 sort of dude.

Thankfully, Adam's drink arrived and he began fumbling through his pockets for the cash to pay for it. He always kept a few dollars on him in case of emergencies. He was not happy about spending an entire six of those dollars on a drink that looked like bubbly water and probably tasted like piss, but the decision has already been made.

"I got it." Adam looked up to see Waldo slapping a ten dollar bill on the bar. "Keep the change."

The bartender nodded and moved on to the next customer, leaving Adam no time to object to this.

It wasn't the first time this kind of pity had been taken on him. Many a middle aged woman behind him in line at Walmart, usually in a puffy North Face jacket and a haircut that seemed to silently ask to speak to a manager, had patted him on the back and handed him a 20 when he'd been sussing through what items to keep or put back with a cashier. And he'd let them. Because he needed the food and having to go home and explain to his parents why he couldn't get everything on the list was just about the worst thing he could imagine. But this was different. This was a peer, someone he was supposed to be on a level playing field with. Someone who should not be able to simply look at Adam and know he was lesser than. Adam wouldn't allow it.

"I could've paid for that," he announced flatly.

Waldo chuckled. "I'm sure you could have, but I don't wanna waste any time. You're the hottest guy I've seen all night who doesn't look like they might be into erotic asphyxiation. I'm staking my claim, Mr. Sexy Mechanic. What do you say?"

Adam took way too long to understand what was happening. A new flush reddened his cheeks. "Oh, wow," he stammered. "I'm uh, really flattered but I—"

There was a part of him that didn't want to turn the offer down. No one had ever outwardly hit on him like this before. This guy wasn't expecting to hear a no. The bold confidence was enviable. Attractive. Pride surged through Adam at an alarming speed, to be picked out of everyone here at this bar, to be deemed the most wantable person in the room, it was an intoxicating feeling. So yes, there was a part of Adam that yearned to chase that feeling as far as it would take him, but that would be completely self-serving and dishonest. He obviously didn't feel the same way.

Another vote in favor of just going with it was the fact that he'd never had to turn someone down before and suddenly he had to figure out the words that would be clear and inarguable without being cruel or rude. What was he supposed to say? Everything his brain came up with sounded too harsh. This guy hadn't done anything wrong, he'd just barked up the wrong tree.

"I'm actually here with someone," Adam pointed to the couch where Blue sat, having remembered her comment about using Adam as a thwarting device for any would-be suitor. She was currently engaged in what looked to be an intense conversation with Ronan. Gansey was tugging on Ronan's arm, physically pulling him backward. He should have told Waldo never mind and taken the chance he he had now to run away with him. He turned back to him with a sheepish smile. "Sorry."

"All good," Waldo put his hands up and took a step back. "You're cute, but not getting my teeth kicked in cute. Please tell your big, scary boyfriend I'm sorry."

He was gone before Adam could ask out how they were going to resolve the paying for the drink situation. Dazed, he made his way back to his previous spot between Blue and Noah on the couch.

"What was that about?" Blue asked, craning her neck to look over the people congregated in front of them. "Do you know that guy?"

"No," Adam sighed. "He was just hitting on me. I figured it was alright to use you as as my fake girlfriend, since you're using me for the same thing."

"Oh!" Blue immediately went to work, sliding her arm through Adam's and leaning against his shoulder, a dreamy look painting her face. "The role I was born to play."

"No need," Adam failed to keep a straight face as he spoke. "He thought I was talking about Ronan. He called him my big, scary boyfriend."

He smiled toward Ronan, thinking that they could at least share a joke together. Maybe the ridiculousness of the situation would break through some of the ice that had formed between them overnight. He seemed to be at the midway point of getting over it, anyway. But Ronan's face went impassively blank, and the resulting laughter from Gansey and Noah didn't seem to amuse him, either. He stared at Adam, the laughter around them dwindling to an awkward silence, then stood up and walked away.

Adam sighed. This had gone on long enough. He had to deal with this. He couldn't pretend or joke his way out of it. "I need to go talk to him."

"No, you don't," Blue tightened her grip on his arm, keeping him in place. "He's acting like a freaking baby, Adam. If he wants you to talk to him, then he can come tell you that to your face. You can't enable his shitty behavior by giving him what he wants when he doesn't deserve it."

Blue's thoughts were, as always, a little dramatic, but not untrue.

"Can we get back to the game now?" she asked, grabbing Noah's phone from Gansey. Adam watched their fingers slide across each other's skin, turning an inconsequential moment into something numinous.

"Noah," Blue reached over Adam to hand him the phone. "Survey says you're up."

"Kiss the nearest stranger on the mouth," Noah read aloud, then added, unnecessarily, "It's a Dare."

Blue batted her eyelashes at him. "Thank you for that clarific—"

"Richard Man!"

Adam's head snapped up to see a fellow Aglionby student approaching Gansey with eager excitement. "You are the last person I expected to see here, but surprises keep me young."

Gansey stood up to address the boy with a polite smile and a handshake-slap-on-the-back combo.

"Quite the get-up," Gansey nodded at the boy's costume in response. Adam thought it was possibly the little old man on the Monopoly games. Adam couldn't quite remember his name. The boy's, not the Monopoly man.

"Hey Henry," Noah supplied the information, striding toward him with a confident smile.

"Fifth Period," Henry pointed at him in recognition. "English."

Noah's smile folded inward, clearly chafed at the greeting. "Noah," he told him, voice low and flat. Something about seeing someone so cherubic speak so coldly was really unsettling. Noah could really rip your heart out when he wanted to. "Noah Czerny."

"Yes!" Henry clapped his hands together. "I knew it was something utterly delightful. Truth be told, I never knew how to pronounce Czerny and I didn't want to embarrass myself trying to say it out loud."

Adam snorted, what a fucking line.

Noah's smile had returned, easily pacified. "It's my birthday."

Henry's eyebrows raised. He pulled a monocle out of the breast pocket of his jacket and pretended to inspect Noah through it. "A genuine Spooky Boy. I can't believe it."

Noah preened where he stood, enjoying the attention. "We are a very rare breed."

"I'll say," Henry agreed with a sideways smile. He grabbed ahold of Noah's chin, twisting it this way and that, the glitter on Noah's face catching in the light. "You're like a holographic Charizard."

Noah scrunched up his nose and giggled. Adam leaned into Blue to speak quietly into her ear, "Uhhh, what's going on?"

Blue took a long sip of her drink—actually, that was Gansey's drink—and shrugged.

"Is this the part where I'm supposed to offer you a birthday shot?" Henry asked, punctuating the question with his fingertip on Noah's nose.

"Actually, I was hoping for a kiss."

Blue's shoulders lifted up, her interest piqued. Henry wavered, uncharacteristically startled by Noah's proposition.

"A kiss?" he repeated, like he wasn't sure if he'd heard correctly. He laughed. "From me?"

Noah nodded, smirking like a cat who was about to get its cream. "I'm desperate and I heard you were easy."

"How dare you," Henry murmured, a rosy pink color blotching across his cheeks, as he leaned down to Noah's level.

"Oh, um, hold on—" Noah's cheeks colored to match the other boy's. "How old are you?"

Henry cackled like a bird in a cemetery. "If you must know, I'm nineteen in human years. I was held back in 8th. Still working on my English."

"Sweet!" Noah beamed. "Go on, then."

He smirked, then proceeded to peck Noah sweetly on the lips, lingering long enough to make a smacking sound as he pulled away from him. "There you go. Gotta keep my reputation alive."

"I'll tell lots of people," Noah promised, their mouths still very close in proximity.

"Kind of you," Henry noted. "Anything I should be worried about? Radioactivity? Haunting visions? Spookily Transmitted Diseases?"

"You'll probably dream about me tonight," Noah told him. "But don't worry, it'll be a good dream."

Henry placed his hands on Noah's shoulders and shoved him backward. "Richard, I need you to keep this boy far away from me for the rest of my life." He nodded toward Gansey and then Adam and Blue. "As you were."

"He was cute." Blue nodded appreciatively at Noah when he plopped back down on the couch beside Adam. "But the dare said to kiss a stranger. You guys keep bending the rules!"

"That was the first time I've ever spoken to him," Noah argued back haughtily, still flushed and wired from his successful mission. "That totally counts."

Adam looked toward Gansey, who didn't seem to be in any way effected by what had just happened. Instead, he was blindly reaching for his drink, startling only when he saw it was not on the table where he'd left it but tipped up to Blue's lips, her throat bobbing as the contents slid down it. She handed it back to him, her dark lipstick leaving a smudged reminder of where her mouth had just been.

Adam's jaw was clenched in tight contemplation. It wasn't often that he was the last one to figure out something that everyone around him already seemed to know. He raised his glass to his lips to have a reluctant but necessary drink when, as if on cue, his left hand began to throb with pain. "Ow, shit!" He hissed, dropping his glass to the floor, grabbing at his wrist and standing up. His eyes were darting around the club, slitted and struggling to see.

"What's wrong?" Blue reached for him but he shrugged her off. He flexed his fingers, invisibly tender and swollen.

"I have to find Ronan."

* * *

 

Ronan had once been briefly traumatized in his youth by a movie where a guy had dug a hole into his brain with an electric drill. He now understood the appeal. He'd give anything to make it stop, the thoughts playing on a rapid never-ending loop behind his eyelids. The alcohol had only made it worse, splashed a new coat of color on the fading memories from the night before.

It had never been like that before. He could smell Adam's sweat, feel the heat of his breath burning his skin from the inside out. Stop, he commanded his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, clawing at his head, fingers digging in painfully. At least the pain gave him something else to focus on, a welcome distraction. He wanted to bash his head against the glass of the mirror in front of him.

He opted for punching it instead.

He was still picking shards out of his knuckles when Adam found him. He was as pleased as he was ashamed.

Adam sighed, pulling Ronan's injured hand away from him and taking it into his own. He studied it for a moment, then the mirror, then Ronan's face. "You ready to talk to me now?"

"No," Ronan pulled his hand away childishly. "Just leave me alone, Adam."

"We said we weren't going to do this anymore," Adam reminded him. "I tried to give you time to come to me, but if you're just going to be a passive aggressive shit, then fine. I'm coming to you."

"I'm not being passive aggressive," Ronan argued, offended by the accusation. "I don't want to talk."

"I didn't mean anything by laughing about that guy," Adam said, ignoring Ronan's words. "It's not like I…have a problem with it. I just wasn't interested. And I thought it was funny. But not because…I just..you know what I mean. I don't care who or what Noah's into, as long as it makes him happy, you know."

Ronan did not know. He'd been following along just fine until that last sentence. "What?"

"I'm trying to say I'm sorry," Adam scoffed, annoyed at Ronan's confusion. "I wasn't trying to, I don't know, be disrespectful of your friends. I didn't even know Noah was gay. I thought he was into Blue."

Now Ronan was really confused. "I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about." He blinked, the words soaking into his brain at an alcohol-slowed pace. "Noah's not … what?"

Adam's fair brows furrowed together, the confusion passing through the air between them and infecting his expression. "Well he was just swapping spit with Henry Cheng, and Gansey and Blue could've been watching paint dry, so I just thought…everyone knew?" His words were coming out stilted and turned up at the ends, seeming to slowly realize he himself didn't know what he was talking about.

Ronan wasn't surprised. About Noah. Or Henry, for that matter. What he couldn't wrap his head around was why Adam thought that was the reason Ronan was avoiding him. He'd had just enough alcohol to say, "I thought you wanted to talk about last night." They were already halfway there, they might as well rip the rest of the bandaid off.

"I…do," Adam's demeanor shifted into an immediate discomfort and Ronan's stomach turned. The door flew open and a group of stumbling dudes fell in, laughing and talking loudly. Adam winced, took a step back from Ronan. "Not here."

"Where then?"

"How much have you had to drink?"

Ronan scoffed. "Barely anything."

Adam eyed him dubiously. "Want me to recite the alphabet backwards, Officer?"

Two of the guys turned to look at them, curiously eyeballing their now public display. Adam groaned in anxious frustration. "Come on."

* * *

 

Adam didn't speak again until eleven minutes into their drive. Ronan wondered if he'd been timing it.

""I don't really know to…I don't know how much you…felt." He swallowed visibly, Ronan felt it in his own throat.

"I felt everything you felt." Ronan spoke this confession confidently, knowing it was the truth. Adam looked defeated, as if he'd expected as much but had still been hoping for a different answer.

"I'm sorry," he said, quietly.

"For what?" Ronan prompted.

Adam blinked at him, surprised. "I…for…" his unease would have been palpable even without the bond they shared. "For what happened last night."

"What happened?" Ronan was tired. He just wanted this to be over with.

"God, Ronan," Adam touched his finger tips to his temples. "Don't make me say it. I'm embarrassed enough as it is."

Ronan was transported back in time, his organs getting sliced and blended up inside him along the way. It wasn't the first time their bodies had betrayed them in the most intimate, humiliating way, and just like the last time, this was Adam's reaction. Just this. He couldn't blame it on childhood ignorance or confusion now. Adam wasn't like him. He never had been. It was all Ronan, all along, acting alone. Making Adam feel things he didn't want to feel. Confuse him in the most profane, unforgivable way.

He kept his eyes on the road, his throat drawn tight, eyes pricking hot. The lights of the cars in front of him blurred together. Fuck.

 _Ronan_ , Adam's voice was in his head. He hated that he could tell the difference. Hated that it didn't matter. No matter how close he felt to Adam, Adam wasn't going to feel that close to him. They weren't wired the same way. And that wasn't Adam's fault. And that didn't make Ronan know how to accept it any better. And it fucking sucked. Adam reached across the console. Ronan shook his head.

"Stop," he spoke aloud. "Don't touch me."

Adam shrank back like he'd been burned. The rest of the drive to the trailer park was a silent one. They sat in the car, not speaking, not moving.

"Ronan," Adam finally said, his voice scratchy and uneven, like it was an ancient audio recording from decades past. "What happened…I didn't do it on purpose. I…it was an accident."

He was so desperate for Ronan to believe what he was saying. Ronan could feel it in the pumping of his heart, the sweat collecting under his arms, the thickness of the breath in his throat. He couldn't stand it.

"I know," he said. That was the problem. He closed his eyes. He couldn't do this. He slid his finger across the button to unlock the doors of the BMW, the sound of the door clicking open like a gunshot in the silence of the car.

He could see Adam staring at him from the corner of his vision. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Adam looked away, looked back at Ronan. His whole body shifted with slow spinning realization. It seemed, for a moment, like he was going to say something. Ronan could feel the air around them wavering, tipping over a precipice. But then the door opened and the car flooded with unforgiving light as Adam stepped out of it and shut the door behind him without another word.

Ronan didn't know how long he'd been driving when it happened. It came on so quickly, so violently, he swerved and the car began to spin out before dumping itself into a shallow ditch on the side of the road.

His head knocked back against the headrest behind him and bounced off, his body jerked him toward the window, his reflexes throwing up his arms to cover his face just in time.

He couldn't think. Couldn't see. Couldn't breathe. It felt like their were hands around his throat, squeezing his windpipe. Fuck, oh fuck. Fuck.

He grabbed wildly for his phone, managing to bring up his recent missed calls and press Gansey's name before another blow rocked him to the other side of the car, his seatbelt snagging him painfully across the chest.

"Ronan?" Gansey picked up on the second ring. "What's going on?"

"Gansey," he choked out, not bothering to hide the fact that he'd just been crying and was now terrified. "Help."

"Where are you?" He could tell Gansey was already moving, a soldier ready for action before it even began. A kick to the ribs knocked the wind out of his lungs and he wheezed into phone.

"Ronan!" Gansey shouted from too many miles away. "Ronan, where are you? I'm coming, but I need to know where you are!"

"Not—me—" Ronan spat out through painful shuddered breaths. He was able to hold his head still when the next blow to it came, showering his vision with stars. "Adam's—house—hurry—!"

"We're a few minutes outside the city," Gansey explained frantically. "When we couldn't find the two of you, we hitched a ride with Henry…"

A few minutes was a stretch of space too impossible to fathom. He didn't have a few minutes.

The connection was flickering like a struggling flame on a candle that was running out of wax to burn. "Gansey," Ronan sobbed. "He's killing him. Please. Please."

"It's going to be alright," Gansey promised, the fear in his shaking voice betraying him. "Henry, run every light. Pass any car in front of us, I don't care what you have to do, just do it. Go!"

"We're almost there," he told Ronan, a pointless lie. They weren't going to make it. There wasn't enough time. He knew what dying felt like, what too much blood loss felt like, to look up at a ceiling and feel your soul slipping right out of your body, and this was it. The connection throbbed, smashing into his head so hard his ears rang, he tried to hold on to it, like that would fucking do something, but what else could he do?  _Hold on_ , he begged Adam silently.  _Hold on, hold on, please. Hold on to me. Don_ _'t let go._  The flame inside him burned bright, whiting out his vision for one glorious moment, the familiar warmth of Adam's presence enveloping him entirely, then evaporated into the air around him with a crackling snap.

He felt a loss so immediate and complete. It was like looking at his father's dead body. The color and the smell of it. All wrong. A dead thing. Like nothing that ever even been alive. He closed his eyes and screamed.

* * *

 

Blue tripped, falling to her knees, scraping across the wet, muddy ground underneath her. She hadn't waited for the car to stop moving. She pulled herself up and ran. Gansey was calling her from behind, shouting for her to stop.

She had nothing to her advantage, no psychic powers or magical bond that would tell her where Adam was. She ran anyway, her vision streaked like a windshield sloshed with too much rainwater, her breaths coming hard out of her body. The lights were on in several of the homes toward the back of the park, a muffled sound to the left her only lead. She followed it.

As soon as she'd heard Ronan's voice over the speaker of Gansey's phone, she'd knew she'd finally been given the missing piece of the puzzle that put together Adam Parrish. _He's killing him._ How had she not figured it out sooner? The bruises, the embarrassment in his eyes. _He's killing him._ She slipped as she charged up the steps of the light blue house with chipped paint. She could be wrong. _He's killing him._ She couldn't be wrong. She threw herself against the door. What was she going to do? Gansey was still behind her, somewhere, shouting. The door finally gave way and she tumbled inside, catching herself before she fell.

She didn't think, didn't speak, she simply reached into the pocket of her hoodie, walked toward the man that was crouched over Adam, and buried her hot pink switchblade deep into his shoulder.

He screamed, she pulled it back out, blood spurted out of the wound and he reached for it blindly, spinning around to address whoever had just attacked him.

Blue held the blade out in front of her, ready to strike again. A woman was screaming —at her, she thought— but Blue paid her no mind. It might be too late to save Adam but it wasn't too late to do this.

He was screaming at her now, too, yelling at the woman to do something. She floundered, threatening toward Blue that she'd call the cops. He started toward Blue but she was already bending her knees, preparing to lunge when footsteps pounded into the room.

"Get away from her," Gansey's voice snarled, she heard the click of something that sounded like a gun. "We've called the police and they're on their way. There's nothing you can do."

"He's alive," someone said and Blue's eyes fell on Adam's unmoving body. Noah was cradling him up into his lap, two fingers pressed to his neck. He looked up at the man who didn't deserve to be called Adam's father, assaulting him with a gaze so empty and cold it chilled Blue to even be an indirect witness to it.

"Jesus," Gansey hissed, eyeing the bloody knife Blue was still holding out like a sword in front of her. He only now seemed to realize he was pointing a loaded gun at someone and it slipped in his grip. "How are we gonna explain this to the cops?"

"Explaining things to the cops is one of my genetically enhanced specialities," Henry spoke from where he was, kneeling on the floor next to Noah and Adam. "But looks like our star witness is coming round, anyway."

Blue watched as Adam's eyes blinked open. Breath fell out of her lungs like she'd been holding it for hours. She dropped the knife and crawled toward him on her hands and knees.

"Blue," he rasped and she nodded, new tears falling down her face. She thought she'd never hear the sound of his voice again, let alone her name tucked inside it. She'd learned in CPR class not to crowd injured people or try to move them, but she fell on top of him, anyway, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing.

"I'm here," she breathed into the fevered skin of his neck. "I'm here."

* * *

 

Ronan was awake. His phone was ringing in his ears. No, that was just his ears. He was sprawled across the passenger seat, face turned down toward the floorboards. His seatbelt was digging into his torso like a knife. He breathed out, twisting it tighter. He felt nothing, nothing, nothing.

 _Ronan_ , a voice called to him. Louder than the ringing.  _Ronan, where are you? Can you hear me? Ronan?_

Inside his head.

He bolted upward, eyes searching, like he'd be able to see Adam standing outside the ditch he was stuck in. He felt himself being pulled and Adam was there, shaking him from the inside.  _Ronan, please talk to me! Tell me where you are!_

 _I'm in a fucking ditch,_ he said, because he was.  _I lost control of the car when…and then I guess I blacked out. Either that, or I'm dead._

_Are you hurt? Fuck. Can you climb out? Do you know where you are? Ronan?_

_Where are_ _ **you**_ _?_ Ronan wanted to know instead of answering any of those questions. They were all a solid maybe, which wasn't helpful.

 _We're trying to find you_ , Adam told him.  _Oh! We see the car! Oh my God, Ronan…_

Ronan was still fiddling with the seatbelt that seemed to be stuck when he heard shouts nearby, and then Gansey appeared at the window.

"Ronan!" He shouted through the glass. "Stay put. Henry thinks he can pull you out. Just…don't move!"

Ronan didn't understand until he felt the car sliding backwards up and out of the ditch. He still didn't understand, completely, but at least he was getting out of the ditch.

Gansey hit on the glass, motioning for Ronan to unlock the door.

"Are you injured? In pain? Did you hit your head at all? If you feel like you have a stomachache that could be a sign of internal bleeding. No, stop, let me do it!" He leaned over Ronan to untangle him from the seatbelt.

"I'm not bleeding, internally or otherwise," Ronan grumbled, batting his worrying hands away. "I'm fine."

"We have a bit of a situation," Gansey murmured as he helped Ronan out of the car. "Adam is refusing to go to the hospital."

"I think he's alright," Henry Cheng noted, undoing whatever contraption it was he'd just used to pull the BMW out of the ditch. "His eyes have been following iPhone flashlights with impressive accuracy."

"He can't hear out of his left ear," Gansey pointed out, cheeks flushed with frustration.

"Yeah," Henry agreed with a shrug. "That's not ideal."

The door to what Ronan could only assume was Henry's Sports Utility Vehicle opened and Adam stumbled out, hands reaching out to steady him. Adam shrugged them off and walked toward Ronan, then his walk broke into a wobbly sort of jog, and by the time they'd reached each other he was practically falling into his arms. He wound his around Ronan's neck and pulled him close, breathing hard against him.

"I couldn't feel you," he whispered, voice thick. "I was so fucking scared. Ronan. God." He squeezed his arms tighter around him and Ronan reluctantly slid his arms around Adam's waist. He didn't want to do this here, in front of a live audience.

 _Tell me the truth_ , Ronan demanded silently.  _Do you need to go to the hospital_?

 _I'm not going_ , was Adam's unsurprising non-answer.  _Not tonight, at least. I'm tired._

"What am I supposed to do, then?" Ronan pulled away to ask aloud. "I'm not taking you back there."

"I'm not going back there," Adam told him. His face was a fucking wreck. God. Fuck. Ronan had to stop himself from reaching out to touch the bruises that were swelling up around his eye. His lip was split at the bottom. His teeth were stained an ugly orange red.

 _I…should have…_ Ronan's chest hurt. He didn't know what to say.

Adam scowled at him. "Stop."

"Uh," Henry spoke up from where he and Gansey still stood. "What's happening right now?"

"They're talking to each other in their heads," Noah explained, appearing beside Henry, cool wind whipping his hair into impossible shapes. "They do that a lot. Kind of rude, if you ask me."

"Alright," Henry sighed, seeming to accept this without wanting any further information. "So what now? Who am I taking where?"

"Adam's coming with me," Ronan announced, a need rising up in him too strongly to ignore. "I don't care what the rest of you do."

Noah scoffed. "Thanks."

"I need to get my stuff," said Adam, turning away from him to walk back to Henry's car. Ronan followed, unsure what else to do with himself.

"Holy shit." He couldn't help the gasp that came out of him when he saw Blue in the backseat. She was a sight, black streaks down her face, hoodie spattered with blood. "What happened to you?"

She glared at him like he was solely responsible for everything shitty that had ever happened to her.

"Sorry I asked."

"Don't mind her," said Noah. "She's just mad the cops took away her knife."

"What?" Ronan raised his eyebrows in befuddled alarm.

"For evidence," Noah added, like that made it better. "They said there'd be no case, though. Probably. Well, not against her."

" _What_?"

Blue ignored him, addressing Adam with furrowed brows instead. "What are you doing?"

"Going with Ronan," Adam told her, extracting his backpack and slinging it around one shoulder.

"What?" She looked stricken. "I thought you were coming home with me."

"I might, still." he told her, "First, me and Ronan need to talk."

That quieted the lot of them. Ronan supposed he deserved the public display of tension. He'd fucked up, again. And this time it'd had a lot worse consequences than a few months of awkwardly avoiding each other.

"I'm sorry you guys got mixed up in this. Noah, I'm sorry for ruining your birthday."

"What do you mean?" Noah turned around to throw him a thumbs up from the passenger seat as Gansey climbed awkwardly into the backseat beside Blue. "Drama, violence, blood, kissing, breaking every possible traffic law? This is the most punk rock birthday I've ever had."

* * *

 

Adam didn't ask questions, didn't try to start a conversation, he just closed his eyes and let Ronan drive.

He opened them when the engine cut and looked around to see nothing but darkness surrounding him.

"Where are we?"

"Before we go inside," said Ronan, "I just…I'm sor—"

Adam shook his head, silently cutting him off. "You know I don't wanna hear that."

"I thought you were dead," Ronan said, the words seeming to fall unexpectedly out of his pocket. He took his hands off the steering wheel and placed them in his lap. "I felt it. I felt you…not there. And not like it was before. It was different. It was…" Ronan paused abruptly, let a long strand of silence stretch out between them. "You were just gone."

"Same thing happened to me," Adam admitted, completely casual, a routine discovery. "I was freaking out, I knew you had to be driving when it…I thought…" Now it was Adam's turn to pause. He was so…fucking embarrassed. He ought to be a lot of things, but embarrassed was all his mind and body could come up with in their exhausted states. And guilty. There was that, too. A close enough cousin to be invited to the party.

Ronan looked up from his hands, but still not at Adam. "If I don't get to say it, neither do you."

Adam almost smiled. It would be just like Ronan to read his thoughts before Adam could even think them.

Adam didn't want to think. As soon as he'd opened his eyes to reveal the scene that was waiting for him in his home, Blue dirty and bloodied and crawling on top of him, his parents screaming at Gansey and the others, having to stand in front of the cops while they took pictures of the scene, his bruises, Blue's blood soaked switchblade on the floor, his brain had just shut down. It was too much. He had so many decisions to make now, so many things he needed to figure out. So many things he needed to say to so many people. And he was going to do it all, of course. He had no other choice. Just not tonight.

"Where are we?" He asked Ronan a second time, knowing Ronan would understand that was the end of it.

Ronan opened the driver's side door and Adam followed suit, stepping onto a road made of gravel. The resounding quiet of the dark world around him was almost enough to drown out the hollow sound of nothing that was swelling in his left ear. He had a bad feeling it wasn't going to be fixable, and was already making mental notes to appreciate moments like this.

Ronan led him to a large house with a wide wrap around porch. His eyes were starting to adjust to the dark. They were a few miles outside town, maybe. He knew where they were now, even before Ronan made a smart remark about his surprise at the locks not being changed.

It was like stepping directly into a memory. A dream. His eyes couldn't take it all in. His mind was spinning too fast to grasp onto anything for more than a few moments. The spot on the rug in the living room where Ronan's little brother had thrown up while he was supposed to be watching him and he'd taken too long to try to get the stain out and it had set. He'd been grounded for a week for that. The latch door in the kitchen that led to a cellar which Declan tried to scare Ronan out of playing around by telling him it was a portal to Hell, though this strategy eventually backfired after a fight when Ronan told him to go to hell before promptly shoving him down it when he was nine and Declan was eleven. Declan had sprained his ankle in the fall but told his parents it was an accident and accepted his punishment alone. Ronan had been annoyed. Adam had wished he knew what it was like to have a brother who'd lie for you.

Adam followed the dark shape of Ronan's back up the creaky wooden staircase Ronan used to take sometimes a full hour to walk down when he was trying to sneak out. He'd always make Adam count the the minutes, clinging to him for moral support.

They stopped at the second door on the left of the upstairs hallway before Ronan pushed open the door and walked inside.

"This is—"

"I know," said Adam. He'd spent his childhood here. All over this house. But this room was very special, in particular.

It looked like one of those old fashioned rooms that had been recreated for show in a museum. Everything perfectly askew, as if on display. Made to look real. He walked over to where a small red toy car sat atop a dresser next to the bed. He picked it up, spun one of the wheels with the tip of his finger, before setting it back where he'd found it.

He turned around to see Ronan sitting on the edge of the bed, his bed. Adam felt suddenly out of place, a paper doll crudely glued into a plastic house. He didn't know where to look, what to do with his hands.

 _Come sit_ , Ronan said in his head.

 _When we talk like this_ , Adam told him, placing himself carefully on the edge of the bed beside Ronan,  _I can still hear it in both my ears._

Ronan glanced at him and looked away, lips contorting into a grimace.  _I'm sure it'll get better. Give it a day or two._

Adam shrugged, because he wasn't in the mood to argue, but he knew as well as Ronan did that wasn't going to happen.

"This is where I was when I heard your voice for the first time," Ronan said, which Adam already knew. But he supposed maybe some things just needed to be said out loud. "Right here. Never moved the bed around or anything."

"Same sheets?" he joked, because he couldn't help himself. Ronan's mouth curved upward in spite of his somber mood.

"I have to talk about this, because every time I keep not talking about shit, it just makes everything worse." Adam waited for him to say more.

"I always knew I liked boys. Even before I was old enough to totally understand it or even have words for it, I just knew."

Adam had figured that out, finally. He was ashamed of himself for not putting it together sooner. He'd already mentally flipped through everything he knew about Ronan, rifled through boxes of memories in his brain, so many things now fitting together in ways they hadn't before. He'd been content to think Ronan was just inexplicable. He was inexplicable, himself. It had never occurred to him that Ronan might be hiding something from him. Something as big as this.

He wanted to ask: Why didn't you tell me? But he'd once read an article in a Cosmopolitan magazine someone had left at Boyd's that that was rude to do, so he didn't.

It still stung. They were supposed to know everything about each other, even—no, especially—the secret things that no one else knew.

Fuck.  _Did_  everyone else know? Adam couldn't control himself. He had to ask.

 _Maybe_ , Ronan said to him silently.  _But not because I've told them._

Relief flooded him and Ronan eyed him curiously.

"You aren't, like, weirded out?" Ronan finally asked. Adam didn't know why he kept switching back and forth like that, but he went with it.

"Why would I be weirded out?"

"Don't be stupid."

"It doesn't change anything," Adam promised, though he didn't feel like that was true. He wanted it to be. He wanted to believe that in the upheaval of everything else around him, this would stay the same.

"Things have already changed," Ronan countered, voice shaky. "Last night."

 _Oh._ The word echoed in his brain so loudly he knew Ronan must've heard it.

Oh.

His face burned. His throat felt swollen. He tried to swallow and failed.

"I thought that was why I made you up," Ronan said. "I thought it was the universe or…God…fucking whatever…giving me something—someone to…" He cleared his throat, discomfort stalling his words. Adam felt his shame, his guilt, embarrassment, pain. "I thought it was safe, to feel that way about you. I thought that's what you were for."

Adam was horribly unprepared for this. He'd thought of it, kind of, just for a second. When he was walking from Ronan's car to his house. He'd let himself wonder. But it was a thought as fleeting as a lightning strike, imprinting itself in his mind for one blazing moment and then disappearing into nothing.

"I kind of realized that wasn't the case after awhile," Ronan went on, his jaw unclenched and shoulders slumped forward. "I'm not a complete fucking idiot."

"What do you mean?"

"Huh?"

"What do you mean you 'realized that wasn't the case'?" Adam didn't understand how Ronan could realize something like that about Adam without Adam explicitly telling him. He didn't know why that, of all things, was a fight he was suddenly ready to start, but it was. "The hell does that mean?"

Ronan was visibly taken aback by this reaction. "I…you just never…you freaked the fuck out when we…accidentally… _felt_ each other."

It took Adam a few seconds to understand. "Are you serious? Jesus, Ronan. I was just a kid. I was embarrassed."

"You weren't a kid last night," Ronan reminded him.

"You keep bringing up last night," Adam shot back. Why was this making him so angry? "If that's what you really want to talk about, then let's talk about it."

"There's nothing to talk about," Ronan shrugged. "I'm not trying to blame you for anything, Adam, alright? I'm just saying I know how things are and I'm fine with it."

When Adam didn't speak, he relented, "Okay. I'm  _trying_  to be fine with it."

"I really wish you'd just say what you fucking mean," Adam sighed, his head starting to pound again.

"I don't know what else you want me to say," Ronan scoffed. "I've been in love with you since I was eight years old and for awhile I was stupid enough to think you might love me back. I'm sorry your feelings get all twisted up in mine and it makes you accidentally horny for me sometimes. I'll try to work on that. Is that explicit enough for you?"

In short, yes.

He could feel Ronan's maniacal agitation, his blood ready to burst out of his veins. He wanted Adam to say something, needed him to react. For better or for worse. Something was better than nothing.

"I," Adam said, taking a large breath in. "I need to think about this."

Ronan's heart stuttered in his chest. "What does that mean?"

"It means I need to think about it!" Adam snapped. "Process it. Not everyone's known everything about themselves since they were eight!"

"Fine." Ronan crossed his arms. "Whatever." His badly veiled terror was glaringly obvious and Adam had the decency to ignore his poor showmanship.

Adam was feeling a lot right now. On one hand, this was good news. Ronan having feelings for Adam meant he didn't have feelings for anyone else. Adam did not want Ronan to have feelings, those feelings, for anyone else. The thought of sharing him like that was so fucking unbearable he'd rather die than even force himself to truly imagine it.

On the other hand, he was…fuck, he didn't know what he was. Confused? Scared? Nauseous? Turned on? Somehow, all of the above?

He let himself think about last night, about all the nights before that had been leading up to it, the nights where he lay alone in bed so cold and alone, desperate for someone to be there with him, not just someone, but Ronan. Always, it had been Ronan he was wishing for.

He assembled his feelings and memories into a deck of playing cards and shuffled through them, mixed them up evenly, spread them apart, turned them over in his mind. They came up the same each time.

"I always just wanted to be close to you," he told Ronan, licking his dry, spit lips. "I'd lie awake in bed at night and just fucking  _ache_  for you. And no matter how hard I pushed, how far I got, it just wasn't enough. Not even last night." It hadn't been. It had left him dizzy, sick, wired, exhausted, a thousand other contradicting things. But satisfied hadn't been one of them. "I didn't know what that meant," he confessed softly. "I didn't get it when I was eight. I didn't get it last night. I didn't get it until right now."

"Adam," Ronan said, and Adam knew what he was going to say. He was being a stubborn idiot, which was nothing out of the ordinary. He was going to tell Adam it wasn't real, what he was feeling, what he'd always felt. He'd come to some insane conclusion that it was his feelings alone and Adam was just an innocent bystander. A victim to his tactile manipulation.

Fuck that.

Adam grabbed Ronan around the back of his neck and yanked him close. "Shut up," he said, and kissed him.

It was weird, at first. It felt like too much. It felt like maybe a mistake. But then Ronan's mouth opened, slid against his in just the right way, and all he could think was how much time they'd wasted doing anything but this. Ronan's stubble scraped against his lips, his chin. His tongue swiped across the cut on his bottom lip and Adam's insides dinged around like a pinball machine.

His hand slid up the back of Ronan's head, fingertips digging as deep as they could into coarse bristles of hair. Ronan's hands cupped Adam's face, holding him steady, tilting it so he could get a better angle, push his tongue into Adam's mouth, slide it back out again only to push it in again in a way that Adam felt in only one spot on his body. Ronan was struggling to keep himself separate, Adam could feel his hold slipping, and he did everything he could to pry it off completely. Emotions crashed into each other, fizzled and swirled together. Ronan, disbelieving, reverential, happy. Adam, needy, wild, starved. Not enough, his body complained, itching, groaning, hungry for more. It was still not enough. But it was a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kablamo ;)


End file.
